The Big Picture (34 page)

The first of the fireworks explode into the sky, sending swirly red, white, and blue lights streaming down. The crowd gasps in delight. As a balmy breeze wafts over me, I sink deeper into my chair, lean my head back, and just take it all in. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

A small band plays patriotic music in a nearby gazebo, and I find myself getting all misty-eyed. Tonight is my declaration of independence too. I’m free of my past. Free of my mother and her legacy of substance abuse and a life of no possibilities. And I’m free of the guilt that has been with me since I landed in In Between and tasted the good life. This is where God has planted me, and I know I was born to thrive here. My mom made her own life choices, and I don’t have to feel guilty for rejecting her life and instead embracing what God offers me with the Scotts. Family isn’t about genetics. It’s about the people who love you. And I am not letting them go again. They need me too much.

A flag bursts overhead and my mouth drops in awe. I actually haven’t been to too many fireworks displays. I didn’t know they could do all this. It’s amazing.

Next to go up with a bang is a group of lights that are supposed to look like Uncle Sam. I squint and stare harder. It actually looks more like a bear with a Mohawk.

I smile as various Fourth of July greetings light the night. The crowd reads them aloud, one word at a time. “Happy . . . Fourth! . . . God . . . Bless . . . the . . . USA!”

More words pop and we call them out, piecing together a curious sentence. “Sam . . . Needs . . . A . . . Real . . . Woman . . .”

What?
The group around me dissolves into laughter and questions. I say nothing. Instead I scan the crowd and see Maxine sitting with the Scotts, her eyes glued to the sky. A sly smile hangs on her face.

My eyes bulge at the next message.

“Rebuke . . . Satan.”

“And . . . Mabel . . . Doolittle.”

I see Millie lean over and say something in Maxine’s ear. My foster grandmother only shrugs.

Chuckles fill the field we’ve gathered in, and tongues go to wagging as the evening erupts into a light display that puts all the rest to shame. I resist the urge to cover my ears, but know I will hear the loud booms even when they stop. And part of me hopes they never do.

But the magic of the fireworks draws to a close, and all of In Between stands up and claps.

“Hey, kids.” Buford T. Hollis walks by, his arm around his short wife.

“Buford, we’ve got a lot planned for Chihuahua Days,” Frances says. “We’re going to save the drive-in yet.”

“Next Saturday night is the deadline. I won’t fight any more after that. We have to accept defeat at some point.”

Fire lights Frances’s eyes. “We won’t have to, Buford. Bubba’s Big Picture is not going down.”

“Thanks, kid.” He tussles her dark hair. “You’re my favorite.”

After some final hugs to friends, I gather up my chair, but Charlie takes it from me. “I’ll carry it. Just lead the way.” My heart warms just like the good old days. But then he stiffens beside me. I follow the target of his stare.

“Hey, Chels.” Jordan Landers, co-captain of the cheerleading squad
but number one leader of her own snotty posse.

Chelsea’s face is a blank mask. She draws her sister in closer. “Hey.”

“Is your dad here tonight?” This from Chelsea’s one-time running buddy, Caila.

“Oh, wait. No, he’s in jail. Oops!” Jordan giggles behind her manicured hand.

“You can’t talk to her like that.” The words launch out of my mouth like a rocket.

Caila parks a hand on her hip. “Oh, yeah?”

I step in close and loom over her, drawing up to my full five foot nine. “Yeah.” My head bobs with attitude. “This” — I jab a finger in Chelsea’s direction — “happens to be our friend. And unless you want me to stuff you in your little
fake
Kate Spade bag, you probably ought to consider leaving.” I arch an eyebrow. “My mom did time too. And I learned a
lot
from her.”

“Come on, Caila.” Jordan pulls her friend to safety. “They’re
so
not worth it.”

“This is an original!” Caila clutches her purse to her chest as she walks away.

“Not fake?” I call out. “Oh, I must’ve confused your personality with the bag. My mistake.”

Cassidy’s bottom lip trembles, and I feel the punch of her pain all the way to my toes. Chelsea picks her up and holds her close, whispering words of comfort and stroking her hair.

Charlie’s gaze wanders to me, and I can see his struggle so clearly it might as well be scrolling across his forehead. “It’s okay.” I reach for my chair. “I need to go find my family.”

He doesn’t smile. “I’m just going to take her home and make sure everything’s okay.”

I lay my hand on his arm. “It’s all right, Charlie.”

And it is.

But Maxine? Not so fine. That woman is in
so
much trouble. I shout
out a round of good-byes, and make my way toward the Scotts. Maxine sits in her chair, her legs crossed, and she files a pink nail as Millie and James take turns lecturing.

“That was embarrassing, Maxine. Rebuke Satan
and
Mabel Doolittle?” James rips off his glasses and massages his forehead.

“Mother, how do you think Mabel felt when she read that?”

Maxine shrugs. “I assumed she was illiterate.”

“Let’s go.” Millie slings her purse over her shoulder. “I won’t be able to hold my head up in town for a month. And I was
just
getting over the last incident.”

I walk beside my foster grandma. “Last incident?”

She rolls her blue eyes. “Yeah, a couple weeks ago I invited some of my girlfriends over to have a party in the yard.”

“So?”

“Millie didn’t think a group of senior citizens zipping down a Slip ’n Slide in our bikinis was appropriate.”

“Still, Maxine. That was crazy.”

“I have a right to bare arms! And legs. And my belly button ring. And — ”

“No.”
Ew
. I try to shake the visual out of my head. “I meant tonight. Kind of not cool.”

“I’m losing him, Katie.”

“And you thought an ominous warning in squealing fireworks would bring him back?”

“I don’t know what I thought.” She grabs my hand, and we stop. “I need help.”

“Yeah, mental help.”

“Would you focus!” She rips lip gloss out of her pocket and daubs it on. “I have a few more ideas.”

“Moving on to Plan B?”

She smacks her lips. “Oh, I think we’re probably on Plan Q at this point.”

“And what do you need from me?”

A wicked gleam lights her face and instantly fills me with a familiar unease. “What do I need? Whatever would make you ask such a thing?”

Chapter thirty - seven

“SO YOU’LL DO IT?”

I lower my
People
magazine to glare at Frances, and at that exact moment, a Chihuahua linebacker cannonballs into Charlie’s pool, the spray leaving no part of me untouched.

I shake out my magazine and wipe down the Britney Spears article. “Frances, I told you last night, I just got back into town. I’ll help in other ways, but I don’t think I want to strut my stuff down the runway and let In Betweenies bid on me like I’m cattle or something.”

“I invited your friend Tate.”

I almost swallow my gum. “What?” Great. Now he’s been invited by me
and
Frances. What if he thinks I’m stalking him?

“Yeah, called the church and left a message for him. Haven’t heard back yet. Wouldn’t it be cool if you were onstage and there was a bidding war for you?” Frances sighs as she reapplies sunscreen.

“Yeah, really romantic.” And so not possible. Tate and I are just friends. And I’ll probably never see him again anyway.

“Romantic? Whatever. I just meant it would be good for profits.” She adjusts her bathing suit top then waves toward the back gate. “Chelsea’s here.”

My eye roll is automatic, born out of habit. But one look at Chelsea has me tamping down remorse. That girl is seriously down. The golden child scans the crowd of churchies for a familiar face. I can almost feel her discomfort from where I lounge in a far corner.

“Maybe you should go ask her to sit with us.” I cannot believe that came out of my mouth. Sometimes my random acts of maturity nearly give me whiplash. So unexpected.

Frances lowers her oversized sunglasses down the bridge of her nose. “Are you sure?”

I shrug an oily shoulder. “Sure. Why not.”

My best friend scampers over to rescue Chelsea and brings her back to our spot. Though Charlie’s in the middle of a mean game of pool football, I know he’s watching. Just like last night at the fireworks show, his worried eyes follow Chelsea. And then he’s tackled and shoved below. I smile as he comes up sputtering.

Chelsea sets down her beach bag but hesitates to lay down her towel in the only empty spot — beside me. I move my flip-flops, a clear invitation for her to settle in.

Frances makes small talk with Chelsea, who has yet to make eye contact with me. This girl is so weird. I cannot figure her out. Yes, her dad is doing time. But is there video footage of him wearing pantyhose and robbing a drug store? Is he MIA? Um, no.

One hour and two Gatorades later, I grab my sunscreen and squeeze. Nothing comes out but fart noises. “Frances, do you have any — ”

A new bottle is slapped into my hand. I look at my donor — Chelsea. She doesn’t smile. “Borrow mine.”

“Thanks. If I get a sunburn, Millie will freak. She thinks I ought to be out here in a long-sleeved shirt and gigantic garden hat anyway.”

“I have plenty of sunscreen. I’m a little obsessive about keeping it on my sister when we go to the In Between pool.”

I blink. Chelsea Blake at the public pool? She probably had her own cabana boy at her gigantic house, and now she’s paying three bucks a swim like the rest of us commoners? Wow.

“And I always carry extra because if you run out at the pool, it’s like four times what you’d have to pay at Wal-Mart.”

Who are you and what have you done with Chelsea?

“Um . . . yeah. That’s definitely a rip-off. Like movie popcorn.” I smile and watch as Chelsea’s mouth slowly works itself into a grin.

I hand the sunscreen back, and Chelsea hesitates as she takes it. “Katie?”

I flop onto my stomach and tilt my head toward where she sits on her towel. “Yeah?”

Chelsea bites on her pink lip. “I . . . I . . . uh . . .” The apples of her cheeks glow red, but it has nothing to do with the intense heat. “I wanted to say thank you.” Her eyes survey the area, then she leans in closer. “Thank you for standing up for me last night. You were the last person I expected to have my back.”

“Yeah, well, those girls were hideous to you. You don’t need to take that crap, Chelsea. You have to stand up for yourself — especially if your sister is around.”

“I know.” But she doesn’t look convinced.

“Is that the first time that’s happened?”

“No, but the first time they’ve come after me in front of others.” She shakes her head, and I marvel at her messy ponytail that couldn’t be more perfect. “I thought they were my friends. Ever since we lost everything . . .” She looks away.

“Your friends dropped you when all this happened?”

“Yeah.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out some lip balm. “Guess they weren’t really my friends.”

A snooty remark about the quality of her so-called friends bubbles to the surface, but I ignore it. “You don’t need them then.”

Chelsea tries to pull off a smile, but it doesn’t work. “Right.”

“You’ve got plenty of friends around here.” Okay, not quite. But she could work on it. We’re a decent group. I think as soon as people see Chelsea’s a little more humble, they’ll warm up to her.

“Would you like a Perrier?” Chelsea holds up a fancy bottle.

Well, we couldn’t expect her to change overnight, could we?

“Hey, ladies.” I squeal as Charlie stands over me, dripping. “You’re not getting into the pool? Afraid to get your hair wet?”

“Oh, is your little boy’s game of catch over?” I look up through dark sunglasses. “I’m surprised there’s any water left in the pool after that dunk you took. It looked like you inhaled it all.” I hold back a smile and return to my magazine.

“No water in the pool? Hmmm.” Charlie lunges and tosses me over his shoulder. “We’ll just have to test that theory.”

I squeal and squirm, but his hand is locked tight on my legs. “Put me down! Do
not
throw me in there, Charlie Benson. You do
not
want to do that. I — ”

And the rest of my sentence is lost beneath the surface of the blue water, as I plunge to the bottom.

I shoot back up, gasping. Charlie stands at the edge, his arms crossed, a look of victory on his face.

“Any water left in there, Katie?”

I pull the hair out of my eyes, and swim to the ladder near him. “I hope you sleep light.” I pull my body up the first rung. “Because there will be revenge. When you least expect it, Charlie Benson, I
will
be there. I’m gonna haunt you like the smell of sweaty gym socks.”

Charlie laughs, pulls me out of the water, and follows me back to my lounge chair. Everyone on that side of the pool laughs, and I can’t contain my own giggle. Though I’m a little uncomfortable with him walking behind me. Seriously, what
is
it with girls’ bathing suits? They get the least bit wet and it’s an automatic wedgie. And usually not the kind that works itself out — the serious kind that requires extraction. Guys have no clue of our torture.

I flop onto my chair butt-first and drape a towel over me. Charlie sits at my feet. His mouth tightens at the corners, and he plays with the handle of my bag. He focuses on a spot between Chelsea and me.

“Hey, tell Katie she needs to sign up for the date auction,” Frances calls out to Charlie, and my eyes widen.

“No. Not gonna happen,” I say to let him off the hook. Awkward.

“What’s this about Katie not volunteering for the date auction?” Nash joins us and parks himself next to his girlfriend.

“I
am
volunteering. I’m just not going to be part of the auction.” My face flushes pink. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just the bidding on me would get out of hand. Yeah, fights would break out. Boys would give up their college savings for that one date. I couldn’t have that on my conscience.” And if Charlie didn’t even bid, I’d cloister myself in my house for the rest of my miserable life.