The Big Picture (2 page)

“Um . . . Charlie?” That’s it. I’m just going to put it out there. Lay it on the line.

“Yeah?” His eyes never leave the screen.

“I was wondering if maybe — ”

He shifts in his seat. “Are you hungry?”

Hungry for us to move on to the next level?
Why, yes, I am!

“I packed some sandwiches for us. Er, for all of us.”

I lay my hand on his arm and scoot closer. “I don’t want a sandwich.”
I want you telling the world I’m your girlfriend. I want to scribble your name on my notebook and have other girls look on with envy.

“I know we just had popcorn, but I thought maybe . . .”

“Charlie, I think we should talk.” I look behind us to make sure Frances and Nash aren’t listening in. “I was wondering if you and I — ”

The trill of my phone cuts off my big moment.

I hold up a finger, silently telling Charlie to wait.
I’m not through with you.

I check the number as I flip the phone open. “Hi, Millie.”

“Hi, sweetie. Are you having a good time?”

Oh, yeah, sure. I was just about to break out into a Céline Dion song and declare my undying devotion to Charlie. Great timing.

“Hon, I know you’ve looked forward to tonight all week, but I need you to have Charlie bring you home.” My foster mother pauses. “Now.”

The heart I was about to hand over to Charlie triples in speed. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” My foster mom has been doing intense chemo treatments in the last month for breast cancer. It kinda freaks me out.

“Nothing’s wrong. No emergency. James and I just need you to come home. We’ll explain when you get here.”

I end the call and relay the message to my friends.

“Hop in the truck.” Charlie’s hand rubs my upper arm. “I’ll take you home and come back for Nash and Frances later.”

He opens my door as my best friend and her date set up their chairs on the ground. I wave good-bye and promise to call Frances later. Charlie pulls his Ford out of the drive-in lot, and we head toward home.

“Sorry you’re having to miss the movie.” I tap my fingers on my knees. “You can just drop me off.”

Charlie pins me with an intense look. “Katie, I’m staying with you. I want to make sure everything’s all right.”

“Oh . . . um.” Now is
so
not a good time for this, but I blurt it out anyway. “Charlie, what
are
we?”

He frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I mean . . . are we friends?”

“Of course we’re friends. You’re a good friend.”

“No.” Boys are dumb. Boys are stupid. “I mean is that all we are? I don’t know how to read you lately. Are we going out?” I feel my face flame.

He stares straight ahead at the road. Speechless. I feel my stomach sink to the floorboards.

“I think we’re probably heading in that direction,” he finally says. “What’s the problem?”

“The problem is at school you’ve been pretty distant lately. But then we’ll spend two hours on the phone and hang out on the weekends. Are you embarrassed by me at school?” It’s not like
I
wear blue eye shadow.

“No. Of course not.” His face clouds. “I like hanging out with you.”

And here’s where he sticks in the big
but
.

“But I just don’t want anybody to get hurt.”

“Who’s going to get hurt?”

He turns on his blinker and navigates a turn. “I don’t want to lose this — us. But you probably need to know something.”

For the second time tonight, my body floods with panic. “Oh, my gosh, do you wear women’s underwear?”

“No.”

“You like boys too?”

“No!”

“You secretly listen to Clay Aiken and make up your own dance moves?”

“Katie, I’ve started spending time with Chelsea again.”

Like Voldemort to Harry Potter, I suck in my breath at the mere mention of this name. Chelsea Blake — his ex-girlfriend. A girl born with a silver spoon in her mouth and pompoms between her ears.

He reaches for my hand, but I move toward the door. “Why?”

“She’s been going through some pretty tough times lately.”

“Who hasn’t?” Plus, all she has to do is shop her troubles away.
I feel blue! Come to me, oh, MasterCard and Visa!
“Why does Chelsea need you?”

“I’m practically all she’s got. She doesn’t really have many friends.”

“Because she eats them for dinner,” I hiss.

“That’s not fair.”

“Need I remind you I was
with
you the day you saw Chelsea lip-locked with Trevor Jackson last month? She cheated on you. You don’t owe her anything. Let Trevor help her.”

“They were over before they started. She’s just so alone. You don’t know all the dysfunction she’s got going on.”

“Oh, what, did Mommy buy her a Dooney and Bourke instead of a Coach?”

“There’s more to Chelsea than that.”

Yeah, a couple hundred dollars’ worth of highlights. “What does she have to do with us anyway?”

“I need you to be okay with me hanging out with her. It’s the right thing to do.”

I study his face, honing in on his nose and considering tweaking it off his pretty face. “So we
are
just friends then. Because what you’re
not
saying is that you’re not sure your feelings for her are totally dead, am I right?”

I count the fence posts we pass until he answers.

“I’m not dating Chelsea.”

“But you’re also not dating me?”

“I do want to see where you and I — ”

“You can’t have both of us. What’s wrong with Chelsea that she needs you so much?”

“I can’t tell you.”

I nod and process this. “Fine.”

“You know I can’t turn my back on Chelsea. That’s not the God thing to do.”

“But it’s okay to date me while you sort out which one of us you like?”

“I said this wasn’t about liking Chelsea.”

The truck pulls into my driveway.

“And I don’t believe you.” I grab my purse.

He hops out to open my door, but I beat him to it, slamming it shut and stomping toward the front porch.

“Go home, Charlie. I’ll talk to you later.”

I hear him running to catch up with me. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

Yes, because that
would
be the polite thing to do after stomping on my heart. I speed up my pace, staying two steps ahead of him, and race up the sidewalk.

“Katie, wait. Please, I want to talk to you.”

“Now is obviously not a good time. Go check on Chelsea and — ” I halt in my tracks and Charlie smacks into the back of me, grabbing my waist with both arms to avoid a fall.

The front door swings open and Millie files out. Followed by James. And the dog.

And one more person, who shoves past them all and holds her arms out wide.

“Hello, Katie.”

Bobbie Ann Parker.

“I’ve come to take you home.”

My mother.

Chapter two

MY MOTHER RUSHES TO MEET me, throws her arms around me, and squeezes tight. Soothing words come from her mouth, but I can’t decipher any of them. Too dazed. Too numb. Instantly, overwhelmingly confused.

Mom steps back, her hands still clutching my shoulders. “Let me get a look at you.” She smiles, revealing teeth that never saw the luxury of braces. “I can’t believe it. You look so grown-up, so beautiful.”

She pulls me close again, and as I rest my head on her shoulder, I look to the porch where Millie and James stand. James has his arm draped around my foster mom, who clutches her hands and frowns.

I clear my throat and step out of the embrace. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

My mom tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “It was pretty sudden. I just got in the car and came to In Between.” She leans in and whispers. “Did you know their mascot is a Chihuahua?”

“Yes, I believe I’ve heard that somewhere.”

Mom’s eyes dart behind me. “And who is this nice-looking young man? I’m Bobbie Ann Parker, Katie’s mom.” She sticks her hand out, and Charlie shakes it.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Charlie Benson. I’m a . . . uh . . .”

Yeah, you’re a what?
My nonboyfriend? My great disappointment? My let’s-just-be-friends friend?

“He’s a friend.” I level my glare at him. “Just a friend.”

My mom nods, setting her ponytail to swinging. “How nice.” She focuses on me again, and unease prickles along my spine. “I met the Scotts. They seem real nice.”

“They are.” Millie’s face is still pinched in a frown. So unlike her not to have her gentle pastor’s wife face on. “They’ve taken very good care of me.”

“And I’m glad. But it’s time to go home.”

“This
is
home.” The words fly out my mouth before I can even fully process the thought.

My mother’s face darkens. “No. It’s not.” She stretches her smile back into place. “Home is with me — your mother.”

I nod mutely as my thoughts swim in my head like sharks in a frenzy; yet none of them comes to the surface long enough to grab onto.

Millie and James walk into the yard and join us. “Why don’t we go inside — have something to drink, sit down, and talk,” Millie suggests, placing her hand at my back.

Everyone steps toward the porch. When I see Charlie following me, I stop. “Thanks for the movie. I’ll see you later.”

“I can’t leave you right now.” He tilts his head toward my mom. “Don’t you want me to stay?”

I shake my head. “No.” I walk off, but he catches my hand in his. It feels so right there, but I rip it out of his grip.

“Katie, wait. I — ”

“I think Chelsea has first dibs on your help.” My eyes burn into his. “I don’t need you.”

“Come on. Don’t — ”

I dare one final look back as I walk away. “’Bye.” Part of me wants to totally unleash and tell him off. How dare he jerk me around? He led me to believe we were on our way to something great together. Yet the
other side of me wants to turn around, launch myself into his arms, and just stay there forever, blocking out the reality that my mom is back, I’m probably leaving, and I can’t stand the idea of losing the Scotts.

The screen door screeches closed behind me as I turn off the porch light and step into the entryway.

God, help me. I know I should be glad my mom is here. What normal person wouldn’t be? But this place has become my home. And these people have become my family. I feel like I’m being torn in two. Show me what to do, what to say. I can’t do this alone.

Millie walks out of the kitchen carrying a tray of coffee and cookies. “We’re in the living room, Katie.” The blonde waves in her wig bounce around her face. Millie’s not even through with her chemo. She needs me.

I follow my foster mom and join everyone in the living room. Rocky, the resident guard dog, who actually serves no real purpose other than shedding and taking up more than his share of personal space, plops down at my feet as I collapse into the couch. My mom rises from her seat and sits beside me. Rocky stares her down with his dark eyes.

Millie hands my mom a cup of coffee and me a Diet Dr Pepper. Now I know something is seriously wrong. Millie rarely lets me have diet drinks and only on special occasions, like Christmas or getting an A on a test, two events that don’t come around nearly enough.

“Thank you, Mrs. Scott.” My mom puts two sugars in her coffee, something that catches Millie’s eye.

“That’s a nice organic blend, so you might not need to add too much to it.” Millie watches my mother pour in heaping amounts of creamer.

“Millie’s into natural remedies and organic foods.” I take a swig from my can. “She’s a health nut.”

“Oh, how interesting.” Mom stirs her coffee and blows on it. “I tried organic gardening once a long time ago.”

But then she decided growing marijuana was much easier and ripped up all the vegetables.

“Mrs. Smartly didn’t tell us you were coming.” James looks at my
mom over the rim of his glasses.

“Yeah, I know I should’ve called, but I just couldn’t stand to be away from Katie any longer. I’ve lived without this kid long enough.” She pats my leg.

“Why didn’t you write me?” I cross my leg away from her.

My mom swallows. “I did.”

“I didn’t get any letters. I’ve been here over nine months — not a single letter, card, or phone call.”

“My letters must’ve gotten lost in the mail.”

I reach down and pet Rocky, staring at his fur. “Right.” Because between the United States Postal Service and my mom, the post office is definitely the more unreliable. Whatever.

“So . . .” Mom sets her cup and saucer on the coffee table. “I thought maybe I’d get a hotel here in town, and we could head out in the morning. Thought you could come back with me — just for the weekend. You’ll be coming to stay for good soon, you know.”

“Whoa, now.” James holds up a hand. “Nobody’s going anywhere just yet. Ms. Parker, we can’t just let Katie go with you. We are her legal guardians right now. There’s a whole process that must be followed in order for you to take her with you.” James’s serious eyes meet mine, and I try to read them but can’t.

“Well . . . I . . . guess I didn’t think that far.” Mom selects an almond cookie and takes a small bite. “I suppose I just thought I would pick up my daughter — since she is mine. You
are
still my daughter, aren’t you?” My mom laughs, but nobody joins her.

This awkward moment courtesy of Bobbie Ann Parker.

“Ms. Parker — ”

“It’s Bobbie Ann,” Mom interrupts Millie. “Please call me Bobbie Ann.”

“Bobbie Ann.” The line between Millie’s brows deepens. “We understand you have been . . . er, out . . . since March. We even hoped you would come to Katie’s last play with Iola Smartly.”

Mom dabs at her mouth with a napkin. “Yeah, I heard about the
play. I wasn’t able to attend. I had a lot going on. It’s a bit overwhelming to be back in the outside world.”

My face flushes red. I can’t believe we’re all sitting in the living room chatting about my mom’s incarceration like we’re discussing the weather.

“Katie expected you there. It was upsetting to her that you couldn’t make it.” James levels his gaze on Mom.