The Queen of Bright and Shiny Things by Ann Aguirre
I push to my feet. “What’re you doing here?”
“Can we talk for a minute?”
“I guess.” I move away far enough that the others can’t overhear, but they can still see us.
“It’s weird that you said yes,” he mutters. “Nobody else is talking to me.”
There are two ways I can handle this. I can be bitter and say he deserves it, but that’s not how Aunt Gabby has taught me to behave, even to my enemies. She’s kind even to cranky old Mr. Addams, who’s forever holding up the grocery lines. And she’s the kind of woman I want to be. So I don’t tell Dylan what an asshole he is. I figure he knows.
“What’s this about?” I ask instead.
“My mom’s got me in therapy. She’s worried that I’ll turn into a serial killer with mommy issues or something.”
“I hope it helps,” I say quietly.
“God, this is screwed up. You know so much about me, and we’re not even friends.” He goes on, “Anyway, that’s why I’m here. I’m supposed to make things right, if I can. So I’m offering to help.”
He wants to plant a seed? Okay.
“No problem.” I point at the pile of supplies. “Conrad can get you started. He’s kind of the site foreman.”
“Really? That’s it?”
The others are frozen, watching how this goes down. They seem to be letting me set the tone. And I’ve learned the most important thing from my aunt: Forgiveness is freedom.
“My personal feelings don’t matter, dude. This is an important project. It’s good for the town and the environment.”
“Okay. Then I’ll get to work.”
With Dylan’s help, Conrad creates stone paths between the seedlings and he’s so zen about everything that I feel like I’d like to get to know him better. Dylan doesn’t complain or slack; he’s quiet and polite, speaking only when spoken to. I could feel sorry for him if he wasn’t the reason I lost Shane.
Work takes all day but by the time we finish, there are three sections. Near the front, we’ve planted flowers and Gwen’s dad has donated a simple wooden bench where people can sit and enjoy them. The back of the lot is divided into rows of vegetables, and we’ll send what we grow to the aid center that received the canned goods from our food drive at Christmas. And to the left, there’s a small herb patch. I can’t wait to see these plants thrive and bloom.
After we finish, Gwen prevents us from running off. “This was our big project for the year … and it’s finished now. I move we work out a care schedule for the garden and let that stand in lieu of regular meetings for the rest of the school year.”
“Works for me,” Kenny says.
“We need to weed, water, and fertilize regularly,” Conrad adds.
In time, they come up with a fair division of labor, so nobody’s working more than an hour a week, exactly the time we’d spend at the meeting, and the garden should be in great shape by the end of the summer.
“Wait,” Tara says. “So we keep this up through the summer, too?”
Lila laughs. “The garden can’t tend itself.”
“If you go on vacation, call someone to cover for you. Don’t let the garden die, okay?” Gwen looks particularly concerned with this point.
“We got it,” Mel says.
The club starts to break up, but Gwen yells, “Not yet! I have something else to say.”
“When don’t you?” Kenny mumbles. Tara frowns at him, but he’s over his crush, and he ignores her. I’m glad he didn’t quit the group since I think she’s why he joined in the first place.
“I just want to tell you all that I think you did a great job on this project. As most of you know, I’m graduating, so I won’t be around to lead next year. So I’m nominating Sage to take my place. All in favor?”
Unanimously, despite the crap that went down at school, despite my past and Shane going away. They picked me. This might not seem like a big deal to anyone else, but to me, they might as well have written me a Post-it and stuck it on my locker that reads: Hey, we know who you are, and it’s okay. The feeling is like riding down a hill on my bike with my arms up. At this moment, I feel like I might be able to touch the sky.
“Thanks,” I say softly. “I’ll try to do a good job.”
I have a future. I love Shane and I miss him. But I’m okay. I’ve lived through much worse than this. I came out broken, but Aunt Gabby helped me put the pieces back together. They say that a broken thing is never as strong again where it fractured, but I don’t know if I believe that. In this moment, I feel powerful. I feel free.
After that, Ryan and Lila leave with me. I watch Dylan, watching Lila, and he doesn’t realize that I am. There’s so much naked longing in his look that I have to turn my head. He balls up a fist as Ryan opens the door for her, and then he strides away. My friends take Ryan’s ride, so they get there faster, and when I pedal up, they’re staring at the car parked in my driveway. It’s an old beater, rusted, and there’s a man sitting inside it.
“Do you know him?” Lila asks.
Ryan steps in front of us protectively. “Should I call the cops?”
My heart’s beating so hard, I can barely hear them. “I’m pretty sure that’s Shane’s dad.”
“Oh, holy shit.” Lila’s mouth is practically hanging open. “What’re you gonna do?”
I’ve left my phone number and address with the front desk a hundred times. I just never thought I’d see Henry Cavendish again. Trembling, I crunch my way up the gravel drive to the driver’s side door and tap on the window. He jumps. A picture tumbles from his hands. From that I know he’s been out to the trailer because it’s the one that reads Jude and Henry, together forever on the back.
For the first time, I imagine myself in his shoes. I’ve been with Shane for years, and then I learn he’s dying. He’s my whole world; I love him more than life itself. I mean, thinking about how I feel now … and I’m just not with him, but at least I know he’s out there, somewhere. How would I react to a world without Shane? I like to think I’d be brave enough to stay with him until the end. But I don’t know. I don’t. There are no guarantees, and sometimes you don’t know how you’ll jump until your feet are in the fire. Now I see a weak and lonely man in Henry Cavendish, not an evil one. Sorrow has eroded him until there’s only a dry channel left that once flowed with a river of love.
He climbs out of the car, moving like the Tin Man with rusted joints. “Stop calling me. Please.”
“Never,” I answer. “If you think asking me to go away will work when Shane needs me, then you don’t know me very well.”
“No, I mean … you don’t need to. I’m not at the motel anymore.” He digs into his pocket, producing the business card of the social worker Aunt Gabby has spoken to more than once. “I’m working on this. I’m trying to do the right thing.”
This is the lesson I learned from Cassie. Don’t give up. Don’t let people tell you no. She looks so quiet and timid, but deep down, she’s fierce. I understand why Ryan fell in love with her and not me. Because last year, before Shane, I was afraid of everything.
Even myself.
Especially myself.
When I hug Henry Cavendish, he goes rigid, like this is unspeakable, kind of like Shane did that first time. And I wonder if it’s been since Jude died for Mr. Cavendish, too. Jude must’ve been a wonderland of music and magic to leave such a hole in her men when she went. Eventually, he hugs me back, and I can feel his hands shaking. He’s so thin.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He draws back, eyes dark and weary. His face is a mask of grief, new lines written on the ones that came from smiling. “I can’t promise anything. Shane probably hates me, and he’s right to. I don’t know if he’ll agree to live with me, even to come back here. But … I’m trying.”
“That’s all anyone can do.”
Before I can get myself together enough to ask for Shane’s contact info, his dad’s gone, driving his sputtering car away and down the road. Lila and Rya
Lila seems excited. “That’s great news. Shane could be home soon!”
But honestly, I feel better about this for Shane than for me, because it means his dad’s finally waking up from a long sleep. He cares enough to fight. I believe Shane will be back, maybe not until July, but I don’t think he’d leave me forever without saying good-bye. Whatever it is, there’s a reason for his silence. I remember how he said that while he can’t promise we’ll be always together, he wants me in his life. He promised me silly texts and video chats, and I believe in him.
I believe.
And so while Ryan is goofing with Lila, I picture Shane’s face and smile.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Prom is in three weeks.
At the start of the year, it never occurred to me that I might go. Then, after I got together with Shane, I pictured myself in a pretty dress and him in a tuxedo. Even in my head, my weirdness about cars made it a little complicated to imagine how we’d get there because it seems unlikely that biking would work in formal wear. I walk past the girls selling tickets at the table; it’s decorated in keeping with this year’s theme, which is Sparkle and Shine. This means they’ve papered it and covered that with glitter and hung silver ribbons that flutter when people pass by.
“You should buy some tickets,” Lila says.
“Why?”
“So you can go with Ryan and me.”
“You’re going to prom with him?” This surprises me.
“Not like that.” But from her expression, maybe she wishes that was the case.
“Lila, do you like Ryan?”
“We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. And every girl should put on a pretty dress, so she can dance in the gym.”
I smile. “You present a tempting offer.”
“You could always bring Conrad. I think he likes you.”
I stare at her. “Seriously?”
“It was just an idea. Look, if you can afford it, you should buy the tickets. Just in case.”
“Of what?” The only person I want to attend prom with, and, well, I don’t even know where he is.
Lila ignores the question, instead joining the line at the table. She’s digging into her wallet. “How much?”
“Seventy per couple.”
She counts out the cash and takes her packet. “Now you.”
It’s uncanny the way she knows I’ve got money on me today. Usually I wouldn’t, but I was planning to stop at the P&K for groceries on the way home. I dig into my backpack for my wallet, but an arm covered in worn green fabric reaches in front of me, holding three twenties and a ten. “I’ve got it.”
I whirl, unable to believe what I’m seeing. “Shane?”
Yes. It’s him—worn jeans, black T-shirt, green army jacket, and the bluest eyes in the world. His hair is a little longer than it was, curly more than shaggy. And he’s buying prom tickets? I can’t even process what this means. Joy and disbelief war within me as he concludes the transaction, then draws me gently into an empty classroom. From the pictures on the wall, this is health, but I can hardly think right now, let alone speak.
“You must have questions,” he says softly.
I just put my arms around him and lean my head on his chest, shaking. The tears trickle down my cheeks. It’s ridiculous because I’m happy, not sad, but I have no control over my emotions. He hugs me to him, resting his chin on my hair.
“Okay then, let me do the talking. I ended up fostering with this crazy religious couple. No phone. No Internet. No TV. No music. It was pretty close to hell. I think … it was actually worse than juvie.”
“They wouldn’t let you write to me? Not even a postcard?”
“I lost your address,” he admits. “When my release came, I had your letter, but by the time I unpacked, I couldn’t find it. I’m so sorry.”
“So you’re back?” I tip my head back, devouring his face with my gaze. It feels like I could never get enough of him.
He smiles at that. “It seems that somebody was pressuring my dad, making him think about me. And … it worked. So he contacted my social worker and started the process to get custody of me, at least until I turn eighteen. He’s taken a local route with the trucking company, he’ll drive a delivery circuit and be home at the end of each night.”
“Oh my God,” I breathe. “They approved his petition?”
“Yeah. I guess you made quite an impression on him. Says I’m lucky as hell to have you. Like I didn’t already know.”
“Wow. But it took a while I guess?”
“Not as bad as it could’ve been. Since Dad’s never been convicted of a crime, never had a problem with drugs or alcohol, and there’s never been any allegations of abuse, it was pretty easy for him to get me back, once he started fighting. I … just never expected that he would. He’s better at running away.”
“I bet once he offered proof he’ll be home at the end of the day, it helped a lot.”
“From what my social worker says, yes. We’ll have regular home visits, just to make sure things are still okay, but I don’t expect any problems. And I’ll be eighteen in July. So if my dad can’t take living with me, then he can bail, and I’ll be fine. Thanks to you.”
“I’m so happy you’re home,” I whisper, hugging him tighter.
“I hear you started a Free Shane campaign and got me out of juvie, and then, obviously, you worked on my dad until he was willing to spring me from foster care. Damn, Sage. Is there anything you can’t do?”
“Say good-bye to you.”
“My mom believed in me like that … but nobody else, since. Not until you.”
“It doesn’t matter where we’ve been,” I tell him. “Only where we’re going.”
“I have no doubt,” he says, stroking my hair. “But I want to make you a deal.”
“Hm?” The way I’m basking in him, I’d probably agree to anything.
“You’ve fought for me, figuratively, from the beginning, and I needed somebody to care. You have no idea how much. Then I lost my mind over the idea of anyone hurting you and fought for you, literally. But … we’re both okay, right? Let’s stand down now. And just be together. Okay?”
“Deal,” I say.
He smiles with both his eyes and his mouth. “So … I have these tickets. And I was kind of hoping you’d go with me. Interested?”
“Try and stop me,” I answer.
Then he kisses me, and all the pain and sadness slips away with the heat of his mouth on mine. I’ve had so many people leave, but this is the first time anyone’s come back. I hold him tighter, press closer, but we’re cut off by the bell.
“I’d suggest getting out of here, but I don’t want to get in trouble.”
So we step out of the classroom together, holding hands, and nearly bump into Dylan. Despite his participation in Green World, he’s been walking around alone a lot lately, and he looks tired. He can’t meet Shane’s eyes. Then someone shoves him into a locker. I hear he’s banned from playing baseball this spring, and the coach isn’t sure he’s letting him back on the football team next fall. Coach says his players need to be honorable; they need to be leaders, and Dylan let the team down. This means he has almost no shot at an athletic scholarship, so he might not be going to college. Straightening, Dylan threads his way through the crowd and continues to class.
I break away for a sec, dig into my backpack, and pull out my Post-its and my pen. I write It will get better … it did for me, and stick it on his locker. Since he offered an olive branch at Green World’s garden day, I can, too. Maybe if the rest of the school sees that I can forgive him, they’ll move on. This is who I want to be, the girl Shane fell in love with. She’s real. She’s me.
“That
All around us, people are yelling, “Shane!” like they’re happy to see him. Someone calls out, “Hope you’ll be back at the Coffee Shop. Love your music.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he says to the girl. Then he adds to me, “I need to talk to the manager at the P&K, too. See if I can get my job back.”
The rest of the day passes in a happy blur. I’m on a Shane high, giddy with relief and excitement. For the first time in weeks, the color’s back in my world. No more monochrome; there are vivid swirls of red, green, and blue, all vibrant, all beautiful.
That weekend, I go shopping with Lila at the thrift store downtown. This area has mostly shut down, though a few funky boutiques, including the shop my aunt manages, are still squeaking by. I love this store; it’s always got such interesting clothes.
After trying on a couple of failures, I spot a blue dress with sequins on the bodice and a layered tulle skirt. I’ve got nice shoulders, and this will disguise my hips, if I can wiggle into it. I peer at the size. Looks like a ten. Maybe. Nervously, I take it to the fitting room and it slips on like it’s made for me. I don’t even mind that it hits right at my knees. I step out, calling Lila over.
“What do you think?”
“It’s perfect. With the right shoes and accessories, you’ll look fab.”
My arms are bare. I don’t know if I can go to prom showing my history to the world. I fight the urge to fold them. But she seems to sense my discomfort and delivers a pair of white satin gloves. “Here. Old-world glamour.”
I slip them on and feel better instantly. “Does it work?”
“Yeah. You look gorgeous. Now you need shoes and sparkle.”
We find the latter in the form of a rhinestone necklace and earring set. I won’t buy used shoes, so I’ve put everything in my basket that I can pick out here. Lila buys a slinky red dress and jet jewelry. The best part about this shop is that we each end up spending less than fifty bucks.