Anywhere But Here (4 page)

“Um,” I said, my lips s
macking like a fish that had jumped out of the aquarium and landed on the floor.  “No.  Not a chance.  I have better things to do than hang out with a bunch of people who don’t like me.”

“They would like you if you gave them a chance,” he said, a slow smile curling his lips.

“Look, I’m not one of your cheerleader girlfriends or some star-struck freshman – your charm is not going to work on me.  Stop wasting your time,” I said as Mr. Ellis finally called the class to order.

His eyes darkened as he studied me while Mr. Ellis explained our next assignment.  Fin mumbled something under his breath that I didn’t quite catch but I had a feeling it was derogatory.

Mr. Ellis droned on about details and I scribbled notes, trying to muster enthusiasm.  I’d taken plenty of English classes in the past and used to dream about writing for glamorous magazines.  Lately, I couldn’t muster much enthusiasm for the future and couldn’t bring myself to worry about it.

When the bell rang, I gathered my things quickly and shot out the door before Fin could strike up any more conversation.  I needn’t have worried though, as I’d obviously finally succeeded in alienating him, too.

I busied myself with homework during my Study Period as Gina sat amidst a small cluster of admirers and spoke loudly of her plans for the next evening, making quite sure I heard her.  I bent my head lower, hiding my smug grin.  I was tempted to waltz over to her little group and announce in a falsely sweet voice that I, too, was invited.  I was even tempted to hunt down Fin and tell him I’d changed my mind, just to see how mad she’d get. But I really didn’t want to spend an evening with any of these people.  I was content to lock myself in my room to read all weekend.

When school ended for the day, I headed for town instead of toward Aunt Franki’s house.  The downtown area was small with an air of Mayberry about it.
  Touristy shops lined the main strip as the two lane street stretched over a bridge and curved along the shores of Lake Michigan.  Although the town appeared sleepy and dull as the gray, winter sky gradually turned dark, I knew that once summer hit, it came alive.  Over the years, many people had fallen victim to the charms of the cozy little town and had purchased second homes along the sandy shores, clogging the narrow streets with expensive cars and crazy foot traffic. 

At the only stoplight in town, I turned right, away from the lake, and drove two blocks
past a law office, the health clinic, and the only bank.  I parked in the huge lot and walked another block to a handsome, low slung brick building.  My heart thudded in my chest as if it were trying to break free of my ribcage and flee back the way I came.  I wanted to take my heart’s lead and escape, but I’d made a deal with Aunt Franki and I intended to keep it. 

I opened the door and found myself face to face wi
th a smiling older woman with a pair of bifocals perched on the tip of her nose.

“Good afternoon, dear.  Can I help you?” she asked.

“Sure,” I muttered, suddenly self-conscious.  “I’m here to meet with Roberta Simmons.”

“And your name?” the receptionist prodded.

“Rena Hamilton.”

“I’ll tell her you’re here, dear.  Make yourself comfortable.”

Shrugging out of my coat, I hung it on a peg before settling on a comfortable chair.  I browsed the magazines sprawled artfully on the coffee table, just about to choose one, when a door opened and a middle-aged, slim woman appeared, smile on her face.

Although I knew Roberta Simmons
wasn’t a psychiatrist or even a doctor, I wasn’t prepared for her appearance.  I had expected an old woman with a pinched face, stuffy business suit, and stiff hair.  But this woman was dressed in jeans and a button up shirt, her hair in a ponytail and no makeup whatsoever.

“Hi, Rena.  I’m Roberta Simmons.  Why don’t you come on back?”

I followed her to an office painted a soothing olive green with squishy chairs and bright artwork.  I sat as she folded her body in a chair across from me.

“You do know that I am not a doctor – that I’m a counselor, right?” she asked.

“Yes.  Aunt Franki told me,” I said as my eyes wandered all over the office, avoiding the other woman’s eyes.  A huge bookcase took up one wall and I squinted, trying to browse the titles.

“Your Aunt Franki spoke to me, as you know, and told me a bit about your situation,” she said as she picked up a yellow legal pad.

“So I’m supposed to talk about it, right?” I asked as I finally met her eyes.  “You want to hear all about what happened and how I feel and all that?”

Her mouth pulled into a thoughtful frown as she cocked her head.  “If that’s what you want to talk about.  I’m not here to analyze you, Rena.  I’m just here to let you vent and express your feelings.  And of course, everything you say is confidential.  I won’t even tell Franki.”

“I know,” I said, poking my cheek.  “I just don’t really want to talk about all that yet.”

“Okay,” she said as she leaned back in her chair.  “Let’s start with your first week in town.  Do you like it here?”

I lifted a shoulder.  “It’s okay.  I like that no one knows me.”

“What about school?  Have you made any friends?”

“A couple people sit with me at lunch.  They live near Aunt Franki.  I guess they’ve helped her out with the house and stuff when she was painting and redoing the floors.”

She nodded thoughtfully and scribbled on her pad.  “So, they’re more or less Franki’s friends.”

I hadn’t thought of that.  While Damon, Shane, and Reg didn’t particularly annoy me, I refrained from being rude to them because of my aunt.  “I guess.”

“Tell me about them.  What grade are they in?  What do they like?”

A shiver of panic raced up my spine.  “Um, they like to snowboard and skate board.  I don’t know what grade they’re in, actually.  They must be juniors because they’re not in any of my classes.”

“Do you know where they live?  What their parents do?  What they want to do when they graduate?”

“No, okay?  I don’t.  I haven’t made much of an effort.”  My rising ire woke the anger-demon on my shoulder.  “I just want to be left alone and they do that.  They don’t pry.  They don’t bug me about my life.”

“Don’t you think it would be nice to have someone to confide in?  Someone to listen?” she asked as she crossed her ankle over her knee.

“That’s what we pay you for,” I said.

“Do you talk to any of your friends from back home?” she continued in her increasingly irritating way.

“No,” I snorted.  “I have no friends back home.”

“Is it because they know what happened to your sister?”

“
No
one knows what happened to her.”  That was an indisputable fact – not up for discussion as far as I was concerned.

“And you haven’t been able to move forward since it happened, have you?  You or your family?’ she said in a soft voice.

“I don’t want to talk about Camille.  I came to Dunewood to get away from it.”  I clamped my lips shut as soon as the words left my mouth.  I knew it was a mistake to admit that – especially to this woman.  Now she’d want to probe it – pull it out like a rotten tooth but without the happy gas.

“I know, Rena.”

I was surprised – astonished really – that she left it at that.  “So, what do we do now?”

“Let’s take a step back and just get to know each other a little bit this week.  Let’s not push things, okay?”

“I’m all for that,” I agreed.  “So, if you’re not a doctor, what do I call you?”

“Roberta is fine.  I’ve been counseling teenagers for about ten years. I mostly deal with people who have gone through the death of a loved one or other life altering changes.  Things like that.”

“How do you think you can help me?” I said.

“I hope to help you deal with your feelings and understand your parents’ reactions.  Your case is a little different from my others but I think we’ll do fine.”

“I didn’t want to come here at first, but my brother talked me into it,” I admitted.  “Aunt Franki told me that she’d let me come live with her if I promised to meet with you.”

“You must have been pretty desperate then,” Roberta said with a smile.

I cracked a faint one of my own.  She wasn’t so bad.  “Yeah, you could say that.”

“You’re honest and I like that.  And I think this is a great place to stop today.  We’ll pick up where we left off next week.”  She rose from her seat and placed her legal pad on a tiny desk.  She snatched a business card out of a holder and held it out to me.  I took it and studied it as she continued.  “In the meantime, if you ever feel like you need someone – call me.  My cell is always charged and always on – day or night.”

“Um, thanks,” I said as I made for the door.  “Same time next week?”

“Yes, and Rena…try to make a friend, huh?”

I nodded though I had no intentions of doing so.  I liked it that people mostly left me alone.  Except for that pesky Ian Finley.  But he didn’t seem entirely stupid – he’d get the hint sooner or later.

***

Aunt Franki was working in her heated garage studio when I arrived home.  Her artwork never ceased to amaze me – she was truly gifted.  And art lovers around the world agreed with me – she made a decent living selling her paintings and sculptures online.

“How did it go?” she asked as she whittled away at a chunk of some kind of stone I couldn’t identify.

“Okay,” I said.  “She’s cool.”

Aunt Franki smiled and wiped her hands on her apron.  “Good, I’m glad you like her.”

I sat on a dusty stool and removed my coat.  Mathilda, the older woman who had owned the house previously, had been Aunt Franki’s mentor and good friend.  She’d owned an art studio in Chicago and had hosted Franki’s first show.  The two had become close friends soon after and when Mathilda grew ill, she changed her will, leaving her Dunewood vacation home to Franki.  Although Franki had initially planned to sell the place, I had had my doubts – Mathilda had meant that much to my aunt.

“There’s some leftover chicken from last night if you want to pop it in the microwave.  If not, I can rustle something up.”

“Chicken’s fine,” I said as I watched her hands move efficiently, as though they were in perfect tune with the picture in her mind.

“Oh, crap,” Aunt Franki said as she set her sculpting tool on her work tray.  “You got a package in the mail today.  I left it on the table.  It’s from Jared.”

My heart leapt.  What would my brother be sending me?  I hurried into the house and found the box, tearing it open eagerly.  A lump formed in my throat as I removed Jared’s old laptop and a note from the packing.

Rena,

Hope things are going better for you at Franki’s.  I just bought a new laptop and thought you could use the old one – I’m not sure if Franki has a computer available for you to use or not.

Sorry I haven’t been around much – you know what it’s like at home.  But I don’t mean to neglect you.  Maybe we can get together during spring break.  Do you still have your cell?  Give me a call sometime.

Love,

Jared.

Aunt Franki ambled into the room, watching my expression carefully.  I wordlessly handed her the note as I inspected the laptop and all the accessories.

Franki sniggered.  “I have a computer and wireless internet.  That brother of yours must think I’m living in the Stone Age or something.”

“He’s an idiot,” I laughed, affection bubbling in my chest.  “I think I’ll call and thank him.”

“Why don’t you take your laptop to your room and give him a call.  I’ll heat up some chicken.”

Nodding, I shot down the stairs, the laptop tucked carefully under my arm.  I set it on the desk and dug my cell phone out of my desk drawer.  I hadn’t found it necessary to carry it with me everywhere as I had no one I particularly wanted to text or call.

I found Jared’s number in my directory and called him, eager to hear his voice.  I hadn’t realized
that I missed him until his thoughtfulness today.  Maybe he was ready to bridge the gap that had cracked our relationship. Maybe he wanted to team up again – me and him against the world.

Or maybe not.

My hopes were dashed as my call went to his voicemail.  I sucked up the despair that engulfed me and left him a peppy thank you message, asking him to call me back whenever he could.

I gazed at the laptop, longing to open it up and surf the net, but I didn’t.  I shoved my phone in
to my pocket and trudged back upstairs to eat.  He’d call me tonight, I just knew it.  Until then, I’d just have to wait.

That evening, after I’d said my goodnights to Aunt Franki, I did open the laptop and checked my old email address.  Nothing but spam greeted me so I unthinkingly typed a web address into the browser.

My little sister’s adorable, smiling face greeted me as soon as the page loaded. My heart seized as my throat closed.  I slammed the laptop shut, gulping for air, and crawled fully clothed into my bed, curling up in a ball with my eyes squeezed shut.  The pain was unbearable and how I wished for my mother or my father or my big brother.  But no one was there – no one.  And no matter what Aunt Franki or Roberta said – I knew I was in this on my own.  Alone.