Payback (9 page)

“Be safe,” I say. “And tell Katie I’m praying for her to get totally well.”

Conrad nods. “Will do.”

Olivia and I wave good-bye as they drive off in Conrad’s goofy-looking orange car. I hope it’s roadworthy. If not, I’m sure they’ll work it out. Maybe it’ll be a good guy adventure. And Katie will appreciate it. I know how much she looks up to her big brother.

“At least you don’t need to make up any phony excuses for not going with Conrad to youth group tomorrow night,” Olivia says as we get into her car.

“Yeah, I hadn’t thought of that. But I’m starting to miss youth group,” I admit.

“Hopefully, tomorrow will be your last prom-crashing night. Have you got your costume all ready to go?”

“I haven’t picked up the dress yet, but I tried on your wig last night. I even did the makeup the way you suggested.”

“The blue eye shadow and false eyelashes and the works?”

“Pretty funny. I didn’t even recognize myself. I almost went down to show Mom, you know, pretend like I was a total stranger. But I didn’t think she’d appreciate it. Her sense of humor isn’t too sharp right now.”

“Is she still in a snit?”

“I think she’s done with the anger part now. Ebony said it might be like she’s going through the stages of grief.”

“So which stage is she at now?”

“Denial, I think.”

“You’re not suggesting that she thinks Steven, or whatever his name was, is innocent, are you?”

“Sort of…plus she kind of blames herself.”

“That is so weird.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I’m going dress shopping tomorrow,” Olivia says as she pulls up at my house. You want to come?”

“Sure. I need to pick up my dress for tomorrow night; maybe you can find something at the rental place.”

She laughs. “That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“No, I didn’t think so.”

“How about I pick you up around eleven?”

“Sounds good.”

“I’d ask you to do something tonight, but the band is having a long practice to be ready for the prom. This is our first prom, and I think Cameron is nervous.”

“How about you?” I ask as I get my bag. “Are you nervous?”

She nods with a serious expression. Yeah, but not about the music. I was thinking about your dream…and I even wondered about not going.” She looks at me with concern. “Do you think it’ll be the real deal tomorrow night?”

“I’m not sure. Like I told you, yesterday’s investigation didn’t turn up a thing.”

“No more dreams or anything either?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“So maybe it’s not tomorrow night’s prom?”

“I just don’t know.”

“It’s not that I’m scared, Sam. Not really. But it’s a little unnerving, you know, thinking that something like that could really happen.”

“You know, Olivia,” I begin slowly, “if you have a bad feeling about this…maybe you shouldn’t go. I mean, I respect the fact that God does give us intuitions, and we really need to pay attention to—”

“No. I
want
to go. Nothing’s going to keep me from going. But I guess I’m a little nervous. That’s all.”

“Well, the police will be all around the place. Security will be tighter than ever now. I’m sure we’ll be safe.” But even as I say this, I wonder how I can be so sure.

She smiles as I get out of the car. “Yeah. God will protect us.”

I think about this as I go inside my house. I do believe that God will protect us, but I also know that bad things really do happen to Christians. I’m not stupid. And I am well aware that my dad died while trying to prevent a crime. And although it seems unlikely, I suppose something similar could happen to me as well.

Still, does that mean I should live my life differently? I don’t think so. I think I’d rather live “dangerously,” knowing I’m in God’s will, than live “safely” outside it. Now
that
would be truly scary.

I
haven’t heard a single word from Ebony,” Mom complains on Friday night.

“What were you expecting to hear?” I cautiously ask as I get the pitcher of iced tea from the fridge. Mom sort of snuck up on me just now, and I think this is the first actual conversation we’ve had since she found out about her so-called boyfriend’s secret life.

“That they’ve arrested Steven, of course.”

I sense she’s taken a step forward in her stages of “grief,” but I’m not exactly sure where she’s heading. “These things take time,” I tell her in what I hope is a soothing tone.

“They should’ve caught him by now,” insists Mom. “The longer they let it drag out, the farther away from here he’ll get. He’s probably out of the state by now. Probably already hitting on another unsuspecting widow. He needs to be stopped.”

“I totally agree,” I say as I pour a glass of iced tea. “So does Ebony I’m sure everything possible is being done.”

“But he’s still out there, scot-free and spending my money!” Mom slams the cupboard door so hard that the dishes rattle inside.

I don’t know how to respond to this, so I don’t.

“The police are supposed to be public servants,” she continues. “My taxes pay their salaries.”

“Right…” I take a sip and watch as she plants both hands on top of the island. I want to point out that it’s not much different than her job with the parks and recreation department, but I know that won’t help.

“So, I want satisfaction.”

I nod. “What would give you satisfaction, Mom?”

“Seeing Steven locked up for a long, long time. And making him pay me back. Not just the money he stole, but everything else too.”

“What else did he steal?” I feel concerned now. Did I miss something?

“He stole my trust, Samantha.”

I consider this. “How did he steal something you gave to him?”

“I may have given it, but he abused it.”

I want to tell her that she should give that kind of trust to God, that He’ll never abuse it. But I don’t think this is the right time.

“And he stole my pride. Do you know how humiliating this has been?”

I shake my head. “But I can imagine.”

“He made a complete fool of me. And for that reason alone, I think he should pay.”

“I agree. I want to see him locked up too.”

“I wish I could get my hands on him first,” Mom says with a wicked look in her eye.

Okay, I probably shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t encourage her, but I am curious. “What would you do?”

“I’d make him sorry he ever met me. I’d think of a way to get even, a way to publicly humiliate him so badly he’d never want to show his face in this town again.”

“I don’t think he’s too eager to show his face around here as it is, Mom.”

“Sometimes I wish we could take the law into our own hands,” she says in a vicious tone.

Now I don’t honestly think my mother would ever resort to something like that, but just hearing her talk this way is a little unnerving. It sort of reminds me of Zach, but at least he’s turning to God now. On the other hand, my mom seriously worries me, and not for the first time, I find myself wondering which of us is the adult here. Will the real parent please stand up?

“I know you’re judging me, Samantha,” she says a little more calmly

“No…” I shake my head. “But I am trying to figure you out.”

“Well, I’m a woman who’s been wounded. Deeply. And it’s going to take awhile to get over it.”

“You know, Mom …,” I begin carefully, “if I were in your shoes, I’m sure I’d feel the same way. I honestly don’t see how you can get over something like that at all—without God.”

“Yes, I knew I’d eventually get a sermon from you, Samantha.”

“Nope. That’s it. No sermon. Just a statement…a simple observation.”

“Call it what you like.” She turns and walks out of the kitchen, and I know that’s the end of the conversation. But at least she’s talking to me now, which is an improvement.

As is often the case with my mom when she’s frustrated with life, she throws herself into her work. Consequently, I’m not surprised when she goes to work on Saturday morning.
And for a while I actually begin to feel the same bitterness that was coming out of her last night. This is all Steven Lowery’s stupid fault. He has stolen not only our money but part of our lives as well. I hate him for doing this.

And then I realize that if I’m going to live out my faith, I will have to forgive him. I will have to extinguish that bitterness before it robs me of something far more valuable than just my college fund. And maybe I can’t forgive him today, but I know I must do it soon. I also know that it will take God’s help to forgive him. So as I’m getting dressed to go shopping with Olivia, I ask God to help me with it. I tell Him I’m willing but I’m just not sure I’m able.

“Are you worrying about tonight?” asks Olivia as she drives us to the mall.

“No…I was just thinking about my mom and this whole Steven thing.”

“How’s she doing?”

I explain how she’s entered a whole new stage. “I think she wants to become a vigilante now,” I joke. “I almost expect her to start saying things like, ‘Hangin’s too good for the lowlife, bottom-feeding, no-good jerk.’”

Olivia laughs. “Your poor mom. She’s been through so much.”

“I guess.”

“You all have.” She shakes her head. “Just last night my dad was saying how he really feels for your family. It seems like you guys get hit with one thing after another.”

“Maybe it’s like that old saying, what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.”

“Then you should all be really strong.”

“I think Zach and I are getting strong in the Lord, but Mom’s putting up a hard fight.”

“We’ll just have to pray harder.”

“Speaking of praying, Conrad called last night to say they made it safely to Seattle. Unfortunately, it was past visiting hours, but he plans to spend most of today with Katie.”

“We should let someone in the youth group know,” Olivia says. “They can be praying specifically for her tonight.”

So as she’s driving, I call the church and leave a message for our youth pastor about Katie. Then I add, “And you guys should also pray for Olivia since the band she’s in will be performing at the McKinley High prom tonight. Pray that it goes well and that God will use Olivia there.”

“Good thinking.” Olivia snags a parking place close to Nordstrom’s entrance. Too bad you couldn’t have them pray for your work tonight too.”

“Not without blowing my cover.”

“Well, I’ll be praying for you.”

Then we go inside, and for several hours I am just a normal girl, doing normal things with my normal best friend.

“I wish you were going to the prom with us,” Olivia says as she models a gown that looks almost like what Cameron Diaz wore to the Oscars.

“You look gorgeous,” I tell her. “That’s definitely the best dress so far.”

Finally she’s made all her choices, including a pair of killer shoes, which will probably be killing her feet before prom night ends. Then we go for lunch at the food court. We’re about to sit down when I see a familiar-looking figure.

“That’s the kid!” I say as I practically drop my tray on the table.

“What kid?” asks Olivia, glancing around with a confused expression.

“Allen, the one in my visions who gets beat up all the time. I gotta follow him.”

“I’ll be right here,” she says patiently. “My phone is on.”

Then I take off. Not running, of course. I don’t want to be too obvious. And I don’t want to scare him either. I go after him, trying to think of some kind of plan. But I’m coming up blank. What do you say to a kid who you know is being bullied? What kind of answers can I possibly give him? I can’t exactly say, “Hang in there. Things will get better.” For all I know, they won’t. Then I have to wonder why God gave me these visions in the first place. How am I supposed to help him? So as I follow him, I pray.

He goes into the video-game arcade, and acting like I do this all the time, I do too. But suddenly I’m wishing for Olivia. She knows video games lots better than I do. He goes directly to a machine with graphics of what appear to be gang members or street fighters. And he pops in a token and starts to play. I pretend to play a game that’s a couple of machines over, but since I don’t have any tokens, I can’t even make it work. I can tell by Allen’s score that he’s good at the game. I wonder if that’s how he deals with the fact that he’s being beat up in real life—he takes it out on the video game.

Finally I decide to just walk over and watch. “You’re really good,” I say to him in a casual tone.

He doesn’t even look up, doesn’t say a word.

“If you don’t want me to watch, I’ll leave,” I continue. “But I’m not very good at video games myself, so I thought I might learn something.”

He barely glances at me, then continues to play. “You can watch if you want,” he finally mumbles.

“Cool.” So I continue to watch, and I compliment him and act like I think it’s great that he can beat up all these guys on the video screen, even though I actually think it’s kind of sickening. I mean, the graphics and sound effects on these games are way too realistic for me.

After what seems a long time, he’s done. He turns and looks curiously at me. “Who are you anyway?”

I shrug. “Just an innocent bystander.” Then I smile and stick out my hand. “My name’s Sam. Short for Samantha.”

He pauses, then shakes my hand. “I’m Brandon.”

I try not to act surprised. I mean, I really thought his name was Allen. But maybe I was wrong about that. Because I know for certain this is the guy in my visions. I make some more small talk about the video arcade and how I’m just killing time before I meet my friend at the food court. Then I ask where he goes to school.

“Fairmont,” he says.

“I go to Brighton. You guys creamed us in basketball this year.”

“Yeah, we went to state.”

“How’d you do?”

“Third.”

“Not bad.”

Then I see him looking at something, or someone, out of the corner of his eye. “I gotta go,” he says quickly.

I glance over to see a couple of guys pointing at us and starting to make their way across the room. The next thing I know, Brandon takes off running and escapes through what turns out to be an emergency exit, setting off an alarm. I step in front of the two guys now, stopping them from following him. “What’s up?” I ask.