Every Shiny Thing Read online

  And I said of course I know and told her I had to finish homework because I didn’t want to think about Sierra leaving, but I kept thinking about it anyway. So now I was worried she was going to go back to her home from before and worried that it made me a bad friend that I didn’t want her to.

  Sierra looked down at her sneakers. “Mr. Ellis says I have to stay and work with him on essay structure.”

  I almost laughed, I was so relieved.

  “I know it’s your last game of the season, and I promised . . .” she started.

  I’d told her how I was sort of missing Ryan’s good-luck notes and how Mom was babysitting my cousin Melody, so she couldn’t come.

  “It’s fine, Sierra! Don’t worry! It’s just field hockey. It doesn’t matter, OK?”

  She gave me a shaky nod, and I walked her to Mr. Ellis’s room before I went to the locker room to change.

  As I lined up at left wing for the beginning of the game, I tried to remember what I’d told her: It’s just field hockey. It doesn’t matter.

  So no one was there to watch me. And so Audrey and Emma were huddled together at the end of the bench whispering. What difference did that make, in the grand scheme of things?

  Our team had the ball to start, so as soon as the eighth grader playing center forward tapped it to the right wing, I sprinted up the field to get open. Pretty soon, the ball came my way, and I ran toward it, reaching out my stick to tap it away from my defender. I dribbled a few steps and smacked a flat pass to the center forward, and someone on the sideline yelled, “Go, Lauren!”

  “Atta girl, Laur!” somebody else shouted. Dad?

  Once the ball went out of bounds, I glanced over at the bleachers. Jake was in the front row with a bunch of eighth-grade boys, wearing a green fleece and giving me a thumbs-up. And two rows behind him was Dad, still in his navy work suit and long coat. Dad saw me looking and waved.

  I took off back down the field to help on defense, feeling an extra charge in my legs.

  And the thing is, I know it doesn’t really matter that I scored a goal and we won the game 2–1—not the way it matters that some of Jenna’s clients can’t afford their sessions, or that Sierra can’t live with her parents, or that Ryan doesn’t live with us. But it still felt pretty excellent to hear people cheer for me when I launched the ball into the back of the net and to high-five all my teammates when the ref blew the final whistle. Except for Audrey, who only got into the game for five minutes and stood off to the side by herself.

  And then after the game, when I sat down in the front seat of Dad’s car, things felt more right than they had in a while. Just the two of us, talking sports like we used to, except he had more to say about my field hockey shot than how the Eagles’ season was going. We hadn’t had any Dad-and-Lauren time at all since Ryan left. Mom and I eat dinner, just the two of us, whenever Dad works late. But it’s never just Dad and me anymore. Mom comes along for everything.

  And, yeah, Dad chose box seats over upper level at the Eagles’ game. He cares about things that aren’t important, and he never really talks to me about Ryan, so all of that’s completely messed up. But he was acting like he still cared about me in the car after the game. If he was ever going to listen, maybe now was the time.

  So when we stopped at a red light, I said, “Dad? I really miss Ry.”

  I thought of what Mom had said the other day, about three being a hard number—how I knew she was talking about me and Audrey and Sierra, but it’s true for her and Dad and me, too.

  “Oh, Lauren,” he said. “I know. I miss him so much, too.”

  And his voice was gentle, and his eyes were sad, so I went for it.

  “I’ve been thinking . . . maybe we could all go to North Carolina for Thanksgiving? I have three days off school, and it just wouldn’t be right, you know? To have Thanksgiving without Ryan?”

  I’d even looked up restaurants near the Piedmont school, and there’s one that’s supposed to be calm and cozy according to the reviews, and they have home-style mashed potatoes on the menu—Ry’s favorite. I thought maybe we could have Thanksgiving there, just the four of us, or else we could pick up food from there and eat it in our hotel room. And if it was just the four of us, away from the school for a little bit, maybe Ry would admit that he wants to come home.

  The light changed to green, and Dad started to drive. He drove around a bend and leaned over to look behind my seat so he could change lanes. Then, finally, he took in a big breath.

  “Sweetheart, that’s a nice idea. It really is. But Christmas is coming up so soon, and flights are so expensive over Thanksgiving weekend.”

  My adrenaline spiked, the same way it had when I yelled at Audrey on Halloween. “So?”

  He can shell out money for meaningless electronics, but it isn’t a priority to pay for flights to spend a holiday with his son? Yeah, Thanksgiving’s a lie, and I don’t have any desire to celebrate the Pilgrims slaughtering the Indians, but when everybody else has a giant meal with family, I don’t want Ryan in North Carolina by himself, and I don’t want the three of us at home acting like he doesn’t exist.

  Dad smoothed a hand over his hair, which is thinning a little on top, and switched back into the left lane. “Mom and I were planning to talk to you about this soon, but Mom’s going down to North Carolina for a few days, to have Thanksgiving dinner at the school and see some of Ryan’s classes.”

  “Just Mom’s going?”

  Dad had to stop at another red light, but he refused to look at me. He spun his gold wedding ring around on his finger and then rubbed his left temple, as if I was giving him a headache.

  “We’ve thought about it and talked to Ryan’s OT at school,” he said, finally, when the light turned green and he started to drive.

  Ugh. Smug Scott. “You didn’t talk to me!” I said. “You never talk to me at all!”

  “We’re trying our hardest here, Lauren!” Dad snapped. Then he took another deep breath as he made a left turn, and his voice was softer when he spoke again. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s just that it’ll be a calmer holiday for Ry if he only has one visitor. And then maybe we can all go back down in the spring, once . . . well, once things are more settled.”

  “And once the flights aren’t so expensive, since you’re suddenly so worried about money?” I spat out.

  He sighed. “It’s not really the money, Laur. I know it was tough on you, too, going down for Family Weekend.”

  I pinched the scratchy fabric of my field hockey skirt and thought how much Ryan would hate the way it feels. “You think it’s less tough on me to keep me away from Ryan?”

  Dad didn’t answer. “We’ll bring Ryan home for his whole two-week winter break before you know it,” he said instead. “You and I get to go to Aunt Jill and Aunt Becky’s, like always. I bet you can convince them to make a cherry pie if you ask nicely.”

  He smiled at me as we pulled onto our street. As if the promise of cherry pie was going to fix everything. As if going to Aunt Jill and Aunt Becky’s will somehow be the same as always when Ryan and Mom won’t be there.

  “It’s easier for Ryan this way, Laur, to have a holiday that’s a little more low-key,” he added when I didn’t fall all over myself in delight. “And it’ll be easier for you if we visit him in the spring instead, when he’s even more settled. I promise.”

  He said “easier for Ryan” and “easier for me.” But he obviously meant easier for him and Mom.

  When we pulled up in front of our house, I got out before Dad even turned off the car, and I slammed the door behind me.

  And later, before I went to bed, I swiped Dad’s Fitbit from his study. He bought it at least a month ago, when he decided he wanted to get in better shape, but he hasn’t even taken it out of the box. I stuffed it inside the old puzzle bin, lowered the price on Mom’s swirly ring online, and listed the Fitbit for sale, too.

  I was too amped up to focus on my homework until it was late, which meant I fell asleep in the middle o
f my history reading and had to scramble to finish in the morning. Mr. Ellis gives us pop quizzes sometimes, and I didn’t want to fail.

  Anyway, it’s not like Mom does much of anything during the day lately, so I figured it’d be no problem to ask her for a ride if I missed the bus. But when I was ready to go, I couldn’t find her.

  I checked everywhere I could think of: her and Dad’s room, Dad’s study, even outside. And then I heard something thud down in the basement.

  I tore down the stairs, and there she was, crouched down to pick up a plastic storage bin filled with a bunch of my old dolls. She moved it to the middle of the room, where most of the bins were already sitting. She’d already moved the blue one with the puzzles.

  I told my voice it had to sound normal. “What are you doing, Mom?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be at the bus stop?”

  “I had to finish some homework. I was hoping maybe you could drive me?”

  She looked down at her dusty hands and wiped them on her jeans. “This isn’t the best morning, hon. I have painters coming at nine. That’s why I have to move everything away from the walls. We’re finally freshening up the paint down here—it’s been ages.”

  I looked around, at Ryan’s calming corner and the familiar old furniture. “But I love this room.”

  She bent back down to straighten the top of the doll bin, which had come off when she moved the box. “I bet you’ll love it even more once it’s gotten a fresh coat of paint!”

  “What about Ryan’s corner?” I squeaked. “What about the fish?”

  “We’ll keep all that just like it is,” she said. “The painters said they can reach the wall behind the tank with their special rollers without disrupting anything. I’ll just get rid of some of this clutter, and Dad thinks we should put a pool table on this side where all the storage was. That’d be fun, right?”

  But I didn’t have room in my brain to think about a pool table because I was stuck on the word clutter and the idea of the top of the doll bin coming off. Other bins could come open, too, or she could start sorting the stuff in them. “Wha . . . what are you getting rid of?”

  “I have no idea yet, babe. I don’t even know what’s in most of these bins. But I won’t give anything away without checking with you, OK?”

  As if that’s what I was worried about.

  Mom checked her watch. “If we leave right now, I can take you. I’ll just grab my purse.”

  I followed her up the basement stairs, but when she veered off to get her purse, I tiptoed back down to rescue the ring and Fitbit and cuff links and money—$340 now that I’d sold Audrey’s bracelet, too—in case she started decluttering today. I sprinted up to my room with them.

  “Lauren! We need to go now!” Mom yelled up to me.

  So I shoved the stuff into my pajama drawer and then ran back down the stairs and out the door, which Mom was already holding open.

  At the end of the day, Sierra and I took the bus home together. We can both take the early bus now that field hockey is over. She was listening to her headphones when I got on, and she took them out once I sat down next to her, but then she didn’t say anything.

  “Is everything OK?” I asked her again once we got off at our stop.

  She nodded, like she had every other time I’d asked.

  “You know you can talk to me if something’s up, right?” I said. “Or I can look at your history essay for you, if you’re stressed about it.”

  She nodded and said, “Thanks.” And I hope that’s really all that’s bothering her—Mr. Ellis’s essay assignment. And that she really will talk to me if it’s something more, so I can listen and try to help.

  “Well, text me if you want company walking Seeger later, OK?”

  She said sure and smiled, but it was the fake kind. I was trying to think of something to say to make her smile for real, but before I could come up with anything, she gave me a little wave and headed up the path to her house.

  So I went inside my house, too, and I was walking toward the kitchen to get a snack, but Dad’s voice stopped me.

  “Lauren. Come in here, please.”

  It was way too early for him to be home from work, but there he was in the living room—he and Mom both, right next to each other on the smaller sofa. They never sit on that one, since the bigger one faces the TV.

  “Sit down, Lauren,” Mom said.

  And the worst part is, what popped into my mind was: They changed their minds about Thanksgiving. They want to apologize about their ridiculous plan and tell me of course all three of us are going to North Carolina so we can be together as a family.

  But then, as I sat on the edge of the long couch, which could have fit six of me side by side by side, I looked over at them. And the expressions on their faces—they were worse than the disappointed frowns I used to dread. Sad and stern and . . . worried. They’d never looked worried about me before. I wasn’t the one they worried about.

  Before they said anything, Dad glanced down toward the coffee table, and when I followed his gaze there, my mouth went dry.

  The Fitbit, still in its box. Mom’s ring, with the honey-colored stone shining. The cuff links from Emma’s family’s yard sale. A stack of money.

  The first thing I thought was how small the stack of bills looked. How much less than $340 I would have guessed there was, if I hadn’t already known.

  “Do you want to explain why I found all that in your pajama drawer?” Mom said.

  It was hard to swallow with my mouth so dry, but I managed. “Do you want to explain why you were going through my stuff?”

  I knew it was the wrong thing to say even as I said it. Now I couldn’t backtrack and pretend I had no idea where any of it had come from. But it still gave me an adrenaline jolt, watching Mom’s mouth open into an O.

  “I thought I’d put your laundry away for you, since I had time, and I—”

  Dad put a hand on Mom’s knee to stop her from saying anything more.

  “Your mother is not the one on trial here, Lauren Elizabeth.”

  I was, in other words.

  “You’ve stolen from your mother and me and someone else, too, by the look of things. What else did you take, Lauren? Where did all this money come from, and what could you possibly need it for?”

  “Are you in some kind of trouble?” Mom added. “Are you buying . . . something you couldn’t ask us to pay for?”

  “No!” I shouted.

  What did they think, that I was on drugs or something? Mom looked panicked, but Dad’s eyes had turned hard and disapproving. He was looking at me the way he probably looks at the corrupt jerks he prosecutes in the courtroom in his white-collar-crime cases.

  But how is that fair, to look at me like I’m some kind of criminal when I’m trying to do something good?

  “The money is for charity!” There was no way they’d understand if I told them the truth, but another explanation came to me. “It’s for the Simplicity-a-Thon, at school. I told you about it already. That’s money I’ve gotten from sponsors.”

  Mom exhaled as she sank back into her seat.

  Dad nodded slowly, but I couldn’t tell if he believed me or not. “And the other things?”

  “The cuff links are Sierra’s,” I said. “She . . . we bought them at a yard sale last weekend. They’re for her dad. For when she gets to see him again. She didn’t want to bring them to Anne and Carl’s because she doesn’t want to hurt their feelings. And the stuff that’s yours . . .”

  I looked up at the giant TV hanging on the wall in front of me. Dad bought it over Memorial Day weekend last spring, claiming there was such a huge sale, it would have been silly not to, even though there was nothing wrong with our old TV at all.

  I thought back to the time Audrey’s parents had caught us charging neighbor kids five bucks each to enter our Hamster and Guinea Pig Obstacle Course Race. Audrey had gotten them down from super-mad to medium mad by telling them we were tryin
g to earn money so I could buy Ryan a new fish for his birthday. That was part of the truth, but the rest of it was that we also wanted the purple flower-patterned sunglasses her mom thought were tacky.

  Maybe there was a way to tell Mom and Dad part of the truth now, too?

  “I don’t like the way you buy all this expensive stuff that doesn’t matter. You send me to a school where we talk all about simplicity, but then it doesn’t feel like we’re living very simply at all.”

  “So you took things from us to teach us a lesson?” Dad asked.

  “I don’t know. I guess sort of. I found them and didn’t even know if you would look for them. I wanted to see if you noticed they were gone.”

  Mom and Dad exchanged a long look, and Dad let out a loud sigh.

  “That was way over the line, Lauren. Sneaky and completely inappropriate.”

  His voice wasn’t as sharp as it had been a minute ago, though. He was softening.

  “It’s great that you take these Quaker values seriously, but you have to talk to us if something’s bothering you,” he added.

  As if that had any chance at working.

  They made me go upstairs while they decided on my consequences: no TV and no iPhone for the next two weeks.

  I don’t even care that much about the punishment, but I do care that somebody finally bought Mom’s ring and I had to give back the money, since I don’t have it anymore. I can’t take a chance on taking any more stuff around the house or hiding anything here. But how much good can $340 do?

  Back up in my room, I looked at that old photo of all four of us after my lower school graduation again, and then I paged through the notebook full of “Ryan Triggers” I’d started keeping because Jenna had taught us to log the causes of Ryan’s meltdowns so we could figure out triggers he couldn’t really explain.