I shriek with excitement before heading back to my room to message Malik. We have so much to squeeze into our last few weeks together before I leave. And of course I have a going-away party to plan!
I crash-land on my bed, watching as the ceiling fan spins on low. For the longest time, I thought the power of positive thinking would get me by. And it helps, that’s for dang sure. But it takes more than thinking and hoping and wishing and praying. You need a whole lot of doing.
Callie
Thirty-Eight
A week into June and two days into summer vacation, Mama pulls up in front of city hall and parks in a two-hour parking spot.
I reach for the door handle. “I thought you were just dropping me off.”
She chuckles. “If my baby’s gonna address the school board, I’m gonna be there to watch.”
She checks her lipstick in the rearview mirror and holds it out for me. “You want some?”
“Sure.” I don’t know if lipstick will do much to make these old farts listen to me, but I’ll try anything at this point. I pull my mirror down and carefully apply.
Mama tussles her hair to add volume and shuts the car off. “Showtime.”
When Millie dropped me off after our truly epic road trip, Mama was doing the dishes before bed. She pulled a plate of food from the fridge labeled CALLIE and sat with me as I ate. Finally, as I was finishing up, she asked me where I’d gone and why. When I explained, she sat there for a long moment and finally said, “Two weeks grounded.”
And that was it. That was the cost of doing business.
I decided to take a page out of Millie’s book and let my clothes do some of the talking, which is why I’m wearing my white Shamrock uniform with matching white boots. I ditched the hat, though, because some heads were made for hats, but mine was not, so I opted to just wear the bun I’d normally don beneath the hat.
But I needed more than clothes. I needed facts. For those, I went to someone who I still can’t believe texted me back.
ME: I know you probably never expected to see me pop up in your phone again, but I need your help. First, I need to say that I’m sorry. I should never have shared everyone’s secrets like I did. I was mad and I felt betrayed, but that wasn’t right.
She left me hanging for a good long time before texting me back.
MELISSA: Why should I even consider helping you?
ME: It’s for the Shamrocks. I swear.
MELISSA: Keep talking.
For the rest of our interactions, Melissa was all business. She didn’t even acknowledge my apology, but she did help me gather the facts and research I needed.
Inside the town hall meeting room, sitting in the middle row, I find Millie, Amanda, Hannah, Ellen, and Willowdean. “What are you guys doing here?” I ask.
“Couldn’t let you embarrass yourself alone,” says Willowdean.
Ellen elbows her in the ribs.
Hannah laughs. “Millie made us come.”
“We wanted to,” says Amanda. “So here we are!”
“You’re going to do great,” Millie says, giving me two thumbs up.
I look at the five of them. These girls were never the friends I asked for, but they’re definitely the friends I needed.
“Nice outfit!” calls Hannah as I’m walking down the aisle.
Without my mama even noticing, I give her the middle finger behind my back. And then I turn around and smirk at her.
Mama and I sit in the front row, in the seats marked for members of the public who would like to speak during the open forum.
