After supper that evening, Dad pushed his chair back, and he and Mom exchanged a look. Uh-oh. Something bad was about to happen. I recognized the signs.
Dad cleared his throat and gave me a hard stare. “I know your mama promised that we’d stay in Valencia until you graduated, but things haven’t worked out here. I got a new job in Greenville, North Carolina, working on a tobacco farm, and they need me there as soon as possible. We’re leaving in the morning, so pack up your things tonight and help your mama pack up the kitchen.”
He stood and walked out, slamming the door behind him. Mom just looked down at her plate, a neutral expression on her face.
“Why?” I yelled. “Why would you do this to me?” I wasn’t sure if she saw the hatred beaming from my eyes, but she couldn’t miss the fury that had burst out of my mouth.
“Because your father needs to move on, and he’s already been here longer than we’ve ever stayed anywhere else.” She sounded resigned to the move. She reached over to pat my hand, which was clenched on the table. “Listen, honey, I’ve argued and argued with him, and I got nowhere. He told Mr. Barrett today and got paid off. So it’s final. You’ll make friends in North Carolina just like you did here. Maybe you can even come back and visit Francie during the summer.”
“Nooo.” I shook with anger. “I want to stay here. I bet Francie would let me live with her. At least until school’s out. Please, Mom? It’s just a couple of months.”
“No. Definitely not. You’re our daughter, and you’ll stay with us. Besides, one of the day workers might have stolen your money. I don’t like that scummy bunch. We need to get out of here.”
My stomach sank. “But why do we have to leave all of a sudden? You may as well tell me what happened.”
Mom sighed and kept her back to me. “I wasn’t there, so I only know your dad’s side of the story. Apparently, on Friday night, Richard and Laney Ivey dropped in at the bar where your dad’s band was playing. They were drinking, but I don’t know how much. And so was your dad. Anyway, during the break, Bud tried to flirt with Laney, and Richard hit him in the stomach. The two men got into a fight, although as far as I know, nobody was hurt. But Bud got fired from the band because of it. He loved playing in that band, and now he’s too upset to stay here anymore. He needs to make a fresh start somewhere else.”
Whoa. Dad and Laney. I remembered how the two of them had flirted when we first moved to Valencia. And then it had stopped, as far as I could tell. I hadn’t noticed any sparks between them when they were in the same room. But given Dad’s personality, I could see how he might try to flirt with her again—especially if he was drinking—and how it might have led to a fight. God, he was such a jerk. I wished I could divorce him, because I knew that Mom never would.
“This isn’t fair. Don’t I even get a vote? I want to stay here.” I probably sounded like a toddler having a temper tantrum. If I’d thought it would do any good, I would have gotten down on the floor and sobbed and thrashed about. But she probably would have just stepped over me and gone about her business.
“No. You’re the child, and we’re the grownups in this family. After you’re eighteen, you can choose what you want to do with your life. But for now, you’ll do what we decide. And that’s all I’m going to say on the matter.” She stood up. “We’ve had our talk. Now we need to start packing. Start with your room, and then you can help me with the kitchen. We’ll leave first thing in the morning, right after we withdraw you from school.”
She moved into the kitchen and began washing dishes. I sat at the table, too stunned to move or even to argue anymore.
After a while, my mind began working. I thought about Reese and the prom I wouldn’t get to attend. And Francie, my best friend, who would be running the Boston Marathon without me. And... and everything else about my life that was being torn to shreds. And Detective Hunt, who wouldn’t know where to find me when he figured out who my real parents were.
I stood up and ran to the telephone. No dial tone. I tried dialing Francie’s number anyway, but nothing happened.
Mom said, “The phone got disconnected this afternoon. Don’t bother.”
My voice was low and mean. “I have to talk to Francie. I can’t just disappear.”
She sighed. “All right. If you must. But if you’re gone more than an hour, I’m coming after you with a switch. You’re not too old for that.” She turned around and glared at me. “I doubt that they’ve told Francie anything about what happened. And it isn’t really why we’re moving. It was just the last straw for your father.”
I tore out of the house and ran the half mile to Francie’s house. Knocking at the back door, I saw through the window that the Ivey family was sitting around their kitchen table, having an emotional conversation of their own. Laney was crying, and Richard was arguing with Kyle. Francie looked as if she were trying to shrink into the linoleum floor. When she heard my knock, she glanced my way then hurried to the door.
She stepped outside and closed the door behind her. Taking in my tear-stained cheeks and clenched fists, she said, “Faye, what’s wrong?”
“We’re moving in the morning. I came to tell you goodbye.”
Francie’s eyes widened, and her head jerked back as if she’d been slapped. “Whoa. Let’s sit down. You’re what?”
We sat on the stoop, and I told her the story. When I was finished, she shook her head. “My parents haven’t said anything to me about it. What they’re upset about is Kyle quitting school and going into the marines, not your dad flirting with Mom.” She paused, thinking. “Your dad would move you away just like that? Like it’s nothing to move to... where is it? North Carolina? What’s wrong with him?”
“Yeah. That’s the question. What pisses me off is that Mom goes along with anything he wants. Even though he probably stole my money, she still lets him get away with murder. And she doesn’t seem to mind that he flirts with other women.” I was fast losing control. Allowing myself to fall apart would do nothing more than waste my precious time with my best friend. I took a deep breath and said in a ragged voice, “I don’t understand him, and I sure don’t understand her. Why can’t she think for herself? She and I could stay here, just the two of us. I’m sure Mr. Barrett would work something out.”
Francie grabbed my hand and held on to it. “Did you ask her about that?”
“No, I didn’t think about it. But I can’t change her mind now. She won’t back down. I’m screwed, and that’s all there is to it.”
In spite of my determination to stay in control, I started to cry. Huge sobs threatened to tear me apart. Francie put her arm around me and pulled me toward her. “I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry, Faye. But it’s not the end of the world. We’ll definitely write. And call. Maybe you can come and visit this summer.” She paused. “I need to tell Mom about this and see what she says. But I can’t talk to her right now. She and Dad are having a blowout argument with Kyle.”
We sat together and watched the evening fall. Their dog, Lady, came and leaned against us. We petted her, and she put her head in my lap. It helped a little.
“I need to call Detective Hunt and tell him what’s happened. And I need to get in touch with Reese and tell him I can’t go to the prom with him.”
Francie breathed in and out. “I guess this is really happening, isn’t it? Do you want to use our phone?”
“Yeah. Thanks.” I went into Francie’s parents’ bedroom, where there was a second phone. Detective Hunt was my first priority. When I dialed the police station’s number, a bored male voice answered. “Valencia police. How can I help you?”
“Uh, can I speak with Detective Hunt? It’s important.”
“Sorry, miss, but he’s gone for the evening. Can I have him call you in the morning?”
I took a deep breath. Of course he’d gone home. It was late. “No. I don’t know where I’ll be in the morning. I’ll try to call him again when I get a chance.”
“Are you sure? I could give him a message. Or maybe somebody else could help you.”
I thought about it. At that point, nobody could help me, not even Detective Hunt. I hung up.
Turning to Francie, I said, “I’ll let you know my address and phone number as soon as we get to wherever we’re going. Will you tell Detective Hunt where I am?”
“Sure. Oh, Faye.” Her voice broke, and we hugged. After a little while, we separated. “What about Reese? Do you want to call him now, too? He’s probably at home.”
I couldn’t imagine how I would be able to tell this story again tonight. “No. I’ll write him a note. Maybe I could leave it in the clinic, and you could pick it up and give it to him sometime tomorrow.”
“Okay. I’ll do that. Anything else?”
My anger was like a forest fire burning up everything inside me. “My parents have moved me one too many times. I’m done playing by their rules. I don’t know how I’ll do it, but I’m going to Boston. North Carolina is closer to Boston than Florida. So look for me at the starting line. Will you look for me?”
“I will, and so will Jess. He’s coming with me.” She grabbed my hand. “And if you don’t show up, we’ll know it’s because you can’t. And I’ll run the race for you.”
My hour was nearly over. I stood up, wiping my nose, and went outside.
“Don’t leave yet. Wait here. I’ll be right back.” Francie went inside.
I looked into their cozy kitchen and wished for the millionth time that I lived in this family instead of the one half a mile up the road. Francie’s parents were somewhere else, and Kyle sat alone at the table. He turned and met my eyes, then he stood up and walked to the door.
My ravaged face must have gotten to him, because he reached up and brushed a tear off my cheek with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry for whatever’s going on with you. My parents will be back in a minute, but I want to ask you something. You know I’m going into the marines, right?” When I nodded, he said, “Would it be all right if I write to you? Just as a friend,” he quickly added. “I really like you, and I like talking to you.”
I shrugged. “If you want. Francie will have my address. But we’re moving tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He glanced into the kitchen, which was still empty. “I’ve got to get back inside. But I’ve got something that might help.” He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a crumpled joint. “Here. It looks like you need this worse than I do.”
I stared at the joint then slapped his hand. The joint flew away into the yard. “Are you nuts? You think every bad thing can be solved by smoking pot? My dad smokes pot, when he’s not drinking, and it hasn’t solved one thing for him. He’s worse than ever. And you think I’m going to do it, too? No way, not ever again. You shouldn’t, either. Being stoned won’t keep you from getting shot at.”
We glared at each other for a few seconds, until he held up his hands. “All right, all right. I’m sorry. But I’ll still write you, okay? You can write back if you want to.”
I took a deep breath and gave him a small smile. “Stay safe, okay?”
“You, too.” He headed back into the house.
He and Francie passed in the doorway. Francie pushed an envelope into my hand. “This is for you. It’s all I could come up with right now. As soon as you let me know where you’re living, I’ll try to send you some more.”
I looked in the envelope and saw the green of paper money. “Oh, Francie.” We hugged again. “I love you.” I had rarely said those words, even to my parents. But I had never had a friend like Francie before, and I might never have one again.
“I love you, too.”
We shared a sad smile, and I whirled around and headed back home.
* * *
WE PACKED ALL THAT night, just as I’d done many times before. Because we had been in Valencia so long, I had more possessions than usual. Not everything fit into the boxes we saved from move to move, or into my tiny suitcase, so I had to leave some things behind. Among them was my beautiful prom dress. I hoped Francie would rescue it after we left. If she didn’t want to wear it, she could sell it back to the resale shop.
I emptied out all of the notes and folded pieces of paper that had been stuck into my textbooks, because I’d be turning in all the books in the morning. A bunch of envelopes fell out of my geometry textbook. Letters. I couldn’t remember where they came from, so I opened a couple. One was from a man who wanted me to model athletic footwear. Another was from a man in Massachusetts who thought I was his long-lost daughter.
I was puzzled at first, but then I remembered that Coach Lopez had given them to me right after I’d run in the track meet. A million years before. They were letters from some of the kooks who’d come out of the woodwork when I’d been on the news. I had planned on reading them with Francie and laughing about them one day. Instead, I crumpled them up and threw them in the trash, along with the little love notes from Reese, asking me to meet him for a quick kiss before I went running.
Useless. Everything that had happened to me in Valencia was going into the trash. I would have to start again somewhere else. I didn’t know if I was up to it.
A couple of hours later, I remembered the letter from the Massachusetts man who thought I was his daughter. What if he wasn’t a kook, and I really was his daughter? I pawed through all the trash cans I could find but didn’t see it anywhere. I went into the kitchen, where Mom was still packing dishes.
“Mom, I had some trash in my room. Do you know what happened to it?”
“Oh, your father took it out and burned it a while ago. Why? Are you missing something?”
What were the odds that this letter had something to do with my parents’ adopting me? Pretty slim. “No. I guess not.” I went back into my room.
That night, while I packed up my belongings, I stopped being a teenager who was bruised and battered by the world’s unfairness and became a woman who was going to take charge of her life. I resolved to no longer be a victim. I was finished with whining and complaining that my parents were doing me wrong. I’d sounded like a tired country song, the kind my dad liked to play. But no more. As Bob Dylan had sung, the times were a-changing. And I was changing with them—into somebody strong and determined. Somebody grown up.
I stood up straighter when I realized I was in charge of my life. And I felt my breath deepening, my shoulders relaxing. I felt my mind working in a different way.
My parents, or whoever they were, had messed me up as much as I was going to allow. Yes, Bud and Sue could make me move to a new place. But they couldn’t make me think that what they were doing was right. And they couldn’t keep me from coming back to Valencia the minute I turned eighteen. Above all, however these next two weeks played out, I was going to run the Boston Marathon—or die trying.
In the early-morning hours, I wrote: “Dear Reese, I’m sorry, but my parents are moving me to North Carolina. By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. I’ll miss going to the prom with you, and I’ll think of you next Saturday night. I don’t know whether I want you to take someone else or spend the evening pining over me. But I’ll be pining over you. I’ll write to Francie as soon as I find out my new address, so she can give it to you. I hope you’ll write to me when you can. I’m already missing you. Sincerely, Faye.”
I couldn’t say, “I love you” to him. I liked him, but I didn’t think I loved him. He really was more of a friend than a boyfriend. But “Sincerely” didn’t seem to cover it, so I added hearts and Xs and Os all around the page. Then I wrote brief notes to Jess, Laney, and Stan, thanking them for all they had done for me.
As we packed the car, Mr. and Mrs. Barrett came out to say goodbye. They shook hands with Mom and Dad. Mr. Barrett hugged me and whispered, “I wish you were my granddaughter.” I wished it, too, but wishing didn’t make it so. Hopefully, I would see him again one day. He rubbed his eyes, and they walked slowly back into their house.
Mom and I went in to the school office, and she withdrew me from school. I handed in my books, and that was that. The school secretary said she was sorry to see me go, that I had been a valuable addition to Valencia High, and she wished me well. I nodded, trying to keep my anger from showing.
I took a minute and ran down to Laney’s clinic. She wasn’t in, so I slid the notes under her door and hoped they would get to the proper people. It was a terrible way to say goodbye to friends who’d meant so much to me, but that was the way it was.
It wasn’t really goodbye, because I would see these people again. I didn’t know when or how, but I would.