Emma chewed on the end of her paintbrush as she studied the acrylic painting she’d spent most of the afternoon working on. It was her first attempt at Impressionism—trying to capture light and color in the form of a bouquet of spring wildflowers that she’d gathered on her way home from the DG meeting earlier today. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but right now it was looking pretty messy. Fortunately the acrylic paints dried quickly and she could layer on more colors later if necessary.
“Hey, Em, what’s up?” Cassidy said from behind her.
Emma jumped in surprise. “Thanks for scaring me half to death.”
“Sorry. I knocked on the front door and no one answered.”
“Mom’s out with her girlfriends tonight, showing off her pictures of the LA trip.”
“I thought you wanted a ride to youth group tonight.”
Emma looked at her alarm clock by her bed. “Kinda early, aren’t you?”
“We have to pick up Devon too.” Cassidy peered curiously at the painting. “That’s, uh, interesting . . . What is it?”
Emma rolled her eyes as she pointed her paintbrush toward the mason jar of wildflowers. “That.”
“Oh, yeah, I guess I can see it.” Cassidy frowned at Emma. “But your paintings are usually, uh, a lot better than this. No offense.”
“It’s supposed to be Impressionism.”
“Uh-huh . . . ?”
“Devon told me that she likes Impressionism—or at least she likes Vincent van Gogh. And it’s her birthday next week. I wanted to make a painting for her.”
“Well, that’s nice.” Cassidy still looked unconvinced. “I hope she likes it. But if you ever make me a birthday painting, just paint it normal, okay?”
Emma laughed. “It’s a deal.”
“What day is her birthday?”
“Wednesday.”
“Well, we should tell Jarrod. You know how he likes to get everyone to sing his goofy Happy Birthday song.”
“Yeah, that should embarrass her nicely.” Emma looked more closely at Cassidy now. Her long dark-brown hair was all smooth and sleek, and she was wearing her best jeans and boots, topped with a pretty green pullover that actually showed off her curves. She even had on earrings. “You look really nice, Cass. Any reason to get all spiffed up?”
Cassidy shrugged like it was no big deal. “I just felt like it. I mean, last week, I went to youth group looking like a slob—or according to Devon, Pippi Longstocking.” She told Emma about her messy braids and black rubber garden boots. “Anyway, I got to thinking about how the guys are all anti-prom right now . . . and Lane will probably be there tonight and I thought, hey, why not put my best foot forward.” She made a sheepish grin. “I’m sure Devon and Bryn would approve.”
“I’m sure they would.” Emma looked down at her own paint-smeared shirt and jeans. “Maybe I should up my game a little too.”
“Well, you have time.” Cassidy sat down on Emma’s bed. “We don’t need to get Devon for about twenty minutes.”
As Emma dressed, she told Cassidy about Felicia’s latest phone call. “She’s spending the night in Sofia’s room at the pediatric center tonight. The room’s set up with an extra bed so that a family member can stay over. I guess Felicia’s mom’s worn out after being there all week. She’ll stay in the hotel with Felicia’s dad.”
“It must be hard. So how’s Sofia doing?”
“Sounds like she’s starting to feel pretty sick from the chemotherapy treatments.” Emma tugged on a clean pair of jeans. “Felicia says it’s like having a really bad case of the flu.”
“Has her hair fallen out?”
“Felicia didn’t mention it.” Emma ran her fingers through her own short haircut, fluffing it up a little. Then she turned to face Cassidy. “Felicia said that Sofia’s going to need a bone marrow transplant. The Ruezes are encouraging everyone in their family to register to be donors.”
“I wonder if we could register too,” Cassidy said.
“I asked Felicia the same thing. She says you have to be eighteen.”
“Oh . . .”
“But she said we could get the word out.”
“Maybe we could get something in the school paper, just to make kids aware, you know, in case their parents or other adults might be willing to register,” Cassidy suggested.
“You’re a good writer,” Emma pointed out. “Maybe you could tackle that.”
“Yeah, definitely.” Cass nodded. “I’ll ask Felicia for more information next week. Maybe it could even run in the local newspaper. And our church’s newsletter too.”
“Good ideas.” Emma slid her feet into her shoes. “Ready!”
As they drove to Emma’s grandmother’s house, Emma thanked Cassidy for enticing Devon to go to youth group last week. “She’d sounded so lost and desperate in her texts to me,” Emma told her. “I could tell it was her way of reaching out.”
“I was actually pretty surprised that she agreed to go,” Cassidy admitted.
“Devon tries to act like she’s got it all together, like she’s really tough. But underneath all that, I know she’s just a scared, lonely girl. And even though she drives me crazy sometimes, I really do care about her.”
“Yeah. Me too.” Cassidy told Emma about the new youth leader. “At first I was a little suspicious—I mean, Sam is so pretty, I just thought she might end up being an airhead, you know?”
“That’s kind of judgmental.”
Cass laughed. “Tell me about it.”
“But you like her?”
“I really do. And I think Devon liked her too. Oh, she didn’t say anything to that effect, but I saw her watching Sam. And when we drove home, she didn’t say anything negative about her. That’s when I figured she probably did like her. Otherwise she would’ve dissed her.”
Emma chuckled. “Good observation.”
“See, I’ve been paying attention.” Cassidy pulled her car into Emma’s grandma’s driveway, giving a quick beep on her horn.
“I’ll run in and get her,” Emma offered. “And say hi to my grandma.”
Inside the house, Emma hugged her grandma then glanced around for Devon. “Is she in her room?”
“Here I am.” Devon came into the kitchen.
“Hey . . . ,” Emma said slowly, taking in Devon’s slightly unusual outfit—at least for Devon. She had on a baggy plaid flannel shirt, a holey pair of jeans, and a shabby pair of Converse canvas shoes. Not only that, but her makeup looked very natural and her thick auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail. “Are you, uh, ready?”
“Yep.” Devon grinned at Grandma. “See ya later.”
Emma kissed Grandma’s cheek and, trying not to stare at Devon, headed out the door.
As they walked to the car, Emma was tempted to question Devon about her appearance, but she knew that could turn out badly. Instead, she told Devon that she’d talked to Felicia this afternoon.
“How’s she doing?” Devon asked after they were in the car.
Emma filled her in, exchanging glances with Cassidy, who looked just as bewildered as Emma felt.
“Looks like you were working in the garden today,” Cassidy said to Devon as she turned into the church parking lot.
“Really?” Devon made a nervous-sounding giggle. “Well, I realized that your youth group was a pretty casual place. So why bother to fix up?”
“Yeah . . . right . . .” Cassidy sounded a bit uncertain as she parked her car. “The most important thing is to show up.”
“That’s right,” Emma agreed as they got out. “Besides, I think you look fabulous, Devon.”
“Really?” Devon peered suspiciously at her.
“Absolutely.” Emma flipped Devon’s ponytail. “It’s a nice look. Fresh and fun and down-to-earth.” And Emma was being totally honest. She actually preferred this over the way Devon usually looked—too much makeup, too-tight clothes, and just too flashy. Hopefully this was a sample of things to come.
As they went into the youth group room, Emma’s eyes scanned the crowd until she spotted Isaac. Then, as she’d been doing lately, she quickly looked the other way—acting nonchalant and as if she hadn’t seen him. Oh, she knew it was a bit childish, but this recent debate over the prom had hurt her feelings slightly. It wasn’t anything she planned to admit to anyone, but it was a fact.
Emma’s friendship with Isaac had been moving forward nicely—ever since their first date last fall. She never would’ve gone so far as to call him her boyfriend. Not out loud, anyway. But she felt like they had an understanding. And, unless she’d imagined it, he had hinted about taking her to prom this year.
But then he’d jumped on the guys’ anti-prom bandwagon and that’s when Emma had taken a step back. For the past few days, she had been acting fairly chilly toward him. And, as much as she liked him, she was aggravated at him too.
Emma spotted Jarrod coming in through a back door with his guitar in hand. “I’ll go tell Jarrod our little idea,” she whispered to Cass. “For Devon.”
Cass’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yeah.”
Emma popped up to the front area and quickly relayed to Jarrod about Devon’s upcoming birthday. “She’s not a regular youth group girl,” she explained. “But she was here last week—and came again tonight.”
“Cool.” He nodded with a twinkle in his eye. “We’ll be sure to make her feel welcome tonight.”
“Thanks.”
“Hey, how was the big red carpet?” he asked suddenly. “The kids were showing me some photos last week. Was it a blast?”
“Yeah. It was amazing.” As she was filling him in on some of the celebs she’d spotted, Isaac joined them. Probably because of Isaac’s presence, Emma proceeded to color the red carpet a little more brightly.
“Very cool.” Jarrod waved across the room. “Hey, if you two will excuse me, there’s a guy I need to talk to.”
And suddenly it was just Isaac and Emma, standing by themselves up front. Emma folded her arms across her midsection, gazing evenly at Isaac—and wishing he didn’t look so doggone cute with his shaggy sandy hair and clear blue eyes. She vaguely wondered if she was a good enough artist to do a decent portrait of him, then mentally slapped herself. Stop it!
“So Em, how’s it going?” he said a bit cautiously.
“Just great.” She gave him an overly bright smile.
“I haven’t seen much of you since your LA trip. I got to thinking that maybe you’ve turned into something of a celebrity yourself—too good to talk to the common people.” He made a lopsided smile.
“Seriously?” She glared at him. “You thought that?”
“Well, not seriously.” His smile faded slightly. “But you sure seem standoffish lately. Did I do something to offend you?”
She felt herself bristling as she shrugged.
“Come on, Em. I thought we were . . . uh . . . friends.”
“Yeah, I thought so too.” She forced another smile.
“Then why are you freezing me out?”
She considered her words. She wanted to be honest with him, and yet . . . “Okay, here’s the deal, Isaac. When you got behind the whole anti-prom thing, well, it felt kinda like a slap in the face. Ya know?”
He rubbed his chin like he was thinking hard. “So going to prom means that much to you?”
She tilted her head to one side. “To be honest, I didn’t think that it did . . . I mean, before. But maybe it’s just feeling like you don’t like me well enough to ask me.” She shrugged uneasily. “Well, that kinda hurts.”
Isaac looked genuinely sorry. “That’s not how I feel at all.”
“Really?”
And now he opened his arms and enveloped her in a big, warm hug. “I really like you, Emma,” he said quietly.
When they stepped away, she felt slightly embarrassed, but happy too. “I guess I shouldn’t be taking it so seriously,” she admitted. “But Felicia is a very good friend, and we really do want to make money to help her sister. I guess that’s made prom seem even more important.”
“Yeah . . . I get that. And I can’t speak for all the guys, but I care about Felicia’s sister too. I want to do whatever we can to help her.”
“You do?”
“Absolutely. Maybe it’s time we all got on the same page. Don’t you think?”
Before she could respond, Jarrod and the other musicians were starting to play, and everyone was starting to take their seats.
“Can I sit with you?” Isaac asked.
She nodded with a happy grin. Of course, as she sat with Isaac up in the front row, she could tell that Cassidy and Devon were watching. And judging by Cassidy’s frown, she probably thought Emma had crossed enemy lines. But, really, the guys weren’t their enemies just because they didn’t agree. Isaac was right. It was about time for everyone to get on the same page.