Letters from the Heart (17 page)

She wasn't sure why that phrase was so soothing, but saying it over and over to herself, she fell into a deep, restful sleep.

A
very was trying to explain what a
bojagi
was at lunch on Friday. “Just picture a quilt, but smaller. Mine, well, it's really beautiful,” Avery said. “It's unique. I've never seen anything like it before.”

Katani, who loved fabric of every kind, couldn't wait to see it. “I like the idea of carrying things in a cloth,” she said. She looked with interest at Avery. “You know, this may be the first time I've heard you use the word 'beautiful' to describe something other than a soccer play, Avery Madden.”

Avery laughed. “I'm not THAT blind to culture, Katani. It's just—” She shrugged. “I don't know. I think I can really connect to this, partly because of where it comes from. I guess I just like this Heritage Project more than I thought I would.”

“Me, too,” Katani admitted. “I'm doing my research on schools—I got the idea from my grandmother. And you know what I found out? There was a school for African Americans that started in Boston in 1835!”

“Wow,” Avery said admiringly. The two of them started
trading research tips, and soon Charlotte joined in on the comparative strengths of using the library versus the Internet.

Maeve was distracted, but her friends gave each other knowing glances. They were all certain it was because tonight was the night—her first time spending the night at her dad's.

“Don't worry, Maeve,” Isabel said, leaning over and giving her arm a squeeze. “I bet it'll go better than you think it will.”

Maeve sat up straight, looking completely embarrassed. How did Isabel guess what she was thinking? Two completely different scenes were running through her mind. In one, she and Dillon were sitting arm in arm, watching the Celtics. Of course, in Maeve's imagination, the Fleet Center was all soft-focus and dimly lit…more like Lincoln Center than a sweaty basketball court…and Dillon was leaning in to kiss her…

Yikes. In the other scenario, Maeve saw herself cowering against Dillon, with an angry stampede of people stomping up to them, demanding to know what she was doing here. Her mom. Her dad. Sam. All three of them stomping up on one side, shouting at her. And on the other side her four best friends…She could just hear them yelling. “You didn't tell us your parents were splitting up! Now you go out with Dillon and you don't tell us what's going on, AGAIN—”

“Maeve,” Katani said, turning to inspect her tray. “You haven't eaten your Tuna Surprise.” The affection and humor in her voice were mixed with a trace of concern. “Are you Okay?”

Maeve nodded. “Just…fine,” she said.

The girls went back to chattering about the plans for the weekend, and the sleepover that night at Charlotte's and what
movie to rent. And the dinner party the next night at Avery's.

“I guess I'll see you guys tomorrow night,” Maeve said, trying to sound casual as she picked up her tray.

Everyone wished her luck on her first weekend at her dad's, and Maeve felt that familiar twinge of guilt again. Her friends were the best. She felt like she didn't deserve them. But maybe she'd be lucky and this whole thing would work out Okay and she would never get something so mixed-up again…ever.

 

Getting ready for their first weekend away at Dad's was harder than Maeve expected—harder logistically, and harder emotionally. Her mom was there to help them pack, and Maeve could tell that it wasn't exactly easy for her, either. Much as Mom was trying to be upbeat, Maeve could see that her eyes kept getting watery.

Sam was taking it pretty hard. He packed and unpacked his camouflage duffel about fifteen times. He had to have just the right toothpaste—this gross blue goop with glitter in it. And his favorite blue blanket, which was worn to bits and looked like a giant fleece rag. Then came Sam's most precious possession—and his deepest, darkest secret. He had a rubber action toy that he called “Captain Mike,” which he slept with every night. And he had to pack Mike along with his blanket and his two pair of grubby corduroy pants, his whole wardrobe, as far as Maeve could tell.

“Sam, quit repacking! You're going to lose something,” she told him after he'd checked and rechecked the contents of his bag for the tenth time.

Maeve herself was in quite a state. On the one hand, she had to pack for the weekend herself. It was harder than she'd
imagined, figuring out everything she needed to take with her. Homework…day planner…hair dryer…laptop…two of her latest magazines…and then on top of that, what to wear? She had this dinner tomorrow night at Avery's. That meant something kind of dressy. Her pajamas…something comfy to hang out at Dad's…and what if she went out with her friends on Sunday?

“Maeve, you can't bring all that,” Sam gasped. “It's gonna fill up Dad's whole apartment!”

Maeve glared at him. Right now she didn't want to remember that she had to share a room with Sam this whole weekend. She stuffed in her two favorite hairbrushes and her shampoo bag—Maeve was a shampoo fanatic—and stood back, trying to think what she might have forgotten.

Of course in the midst of all of this, she was supposed to be getting ready to go out with Dillon. Try doing THAT with a nosy little brother getting in your way.

“Why do you have to wear PERFUME,” he grumbled, “if you're just going to a dumb old dinner with your friends?”

Maeve was trying to brush perfume into her hair the way she'd read in the “How to Stay on His Mind” column in
Seventeen
magazine. She tried to ignore Sam and keep her eye on her watch.

It was almost five. She stuffed another sweater into her duffel and lugged it into the hallway. “Sam, be sure Dad picks this up when he gets you, okay? I need all of this stuff for the weekend.”

Sam was looking forlornly at his room, which looked a little empty without his blanket and Captain Mike.

Maeve stooped down and gave him a hug. “It's going to be okay,” she whispered to Sam and herself. “Honest, Sam. It won't be that bad.”

Maeve felt a sudden rush of tenderness for her younger brother. How do you explain to an eight-year-old that moving back and forth from one house to another probably gets easier with time?

“I don't think…” Sam whispered, his voice breaking a little, “that Captain Mike is going to like this. He'd rather just stay here.”

Maeve hugged him harder. “As long as he's with you, he's going to be fine,” she told him firmly.

She'd done her best to comfort him. Now she'd better get going if she wanted to make it over to Dillon's house in time. Dillon's house was three stops away on the trolley and she didn't want to be late.

 

“You must be Maeve. I'm Dennis, Dillon's dad.”

Maeve had to hide a smile—Dillon's father looked so much like Dillon. He seemed to have the same easygoing, affable character, too. It was easy to talk to him.

It turned out that Dillon's dad wasn't just driving them to the game—he was staying and watching it, too. Same with Dillon's older brother Gabe. Maeve wasn't sure whether she was glad about that or not. It was definitely a little less romantic than if it had just been the two of them. But by this point she was so relieved to have made it safely over to Dillon's without being found out that she was just happy, that was all. And it was fun watching the game with Dillon. Before they got into the car to drive downtown, Maeve turned her cell phone to vibrate. She didn't want anyone bothering them during the game.

The first half passed in a blur. Dillon kept telling her things about the players and cracking jokes, and it felt like
the night was just flying by. Maeve wished it would slow down. She LOVED being here, sitting really close to Dillon. She kept noticing that his hand was inching closer and closer to hers. Was he trying to hold hands, or was it just an accident? She couldn't tell.

Well, they still had halftime, and the whole second half. Maeve was having the time of her life. She just wanted this to last forever.

 

Sam and Ross got back from the movie at around nine o'clock. At first it was fun getting to explore the apartment again, and Dad made Sam a microwave s'more—Sam's favorite “sandwich.” But when bedtime finally came, Sam started to get tearful. He missed Mom. And he missed Maeve.

“She'll be back soon. Don't worry,” Dad said, giving him a hug. “She's just nearby at Charlotte's. She should be here in about an hour or so. Let's get you unpacked and ready for sleep—okay?”

Sammy nodded. He dragged his camouflage duffel into the little bedroom and began taking things out, one at a time. His blanket he spread out neatly on the lower bunk. Maeve could take the top one tonight. Then his
Star Wars
toothpaste. He even laid his clothes out for the morning.

But where was Captain Mike?

Sam's lip started to wobble. He looked everywhere. He shook the duffel out—but no Mike. He crawled under the bed—still no Mike. He even shook out the legs of his brown corduroy pants, but he couldn't find Mike ANYWHERE. He started to cry in earnest.

“We'll find him. Don't worry,” his father said, hugging
him tightly. “Let's call Mom and see if he fell out while you were packing.”

Sam nodded, sniffling. But when they called home, there was no answer. Instead, his mother's voice on the answering machine greeted them, brightly inviting them to leave a message. And when they tried her cell phone, there was no answer, either.

“She must be out,” Sam's dad said. He glanced down at Sam and seemed to make a decision. “Let's try Maeve over at Charlotte's. She may know where Captain Mike is.”

Sam brightened up. He was dying to talk to Maeve anyway. Maybe she'd come over NOW if she knew how sad he was.

“Okay, buster. If I get you the number, why don't you call?” Sam's dad said, passing him the cordless phone.

 

Charlotte was in the middle of trying to recreate her chocolate fondue recipe when the telephone rang.

“Katani—can you get it?” Charlotte called. “I've got chocolate all over my hands.”

Katani nodded, diving for the phone.

“Hey,” someone said, in a squeaky little voice. “This is Sam Kaplan-Taylor?” The way Sam talked, it always sounded like he was making sentences into questions. “Can I talk to Maeve?”

Katani blinked. “She's—” She paused. Wait a second. Wasn't Maeve with HIM?

“Uh, she isn't here,” Katani said. She was briefly unsettled, then decided that this was what she and Maeve sometimes called a “Sam Moment.”

Dead silence. Then a funny little muffled sound. Then: “She ISN'T? Then where IS she?”

Katani thought about this. “Hang on a second, Sam.” She covered the phone with her hand, looking around at her friends. “It's Sam. He wants to know where Maeve is.”

“Isn't she with him?” Charlotte asked, licking chocolate off a wooden spoon.

“Yeah, I thought that's why she isn't HERE,” Isabel said. “She's supposed to be out with Sam and her dad.”

The girls exchanged glances. Katani was still holding the phone to her ear.

An instant later, Sam was gone and Maeve's dad was on the line. His voice sounded worried. “Sam tells me that Maeve isn't there,” he said. “Who's this—is this Charlotte?”

“No,” Katani said, gulping. “It's Katani.” She glanced uneasily at her friends. “Um—we kind of thought…well, we thought Maeve was going out with YOU tonight.”

“I see,” Maeve's father said shortly. He didn't sound happy. “Thank you, Katani.”

He sounded like he was about to hang up.

“Wait!” Katani cried. “If she isn't with you, and she isn't with us—then where is she?”

“That,” Maeve's father said sternly, “is exactly what I want to know.”

He hung up, and Katani was left staring helplessly at her friends.

“It's Maeve,” she said simply, as they all stared at her. “She's missing.”

They stared at each other. Where on earth could Maeve be? What if something had happened to her, or she was in some kind of trouble?

M
aeve had her arm through Dillon's, eyes glued to the second half of the game. The Celtics were up by six points, and the excitement in the Fleet Center was building. She still couldn't believe this was happening—it was all like a dream. Sitting so close to Dillon…the brilliant colors and energy on the court…the heady applause…it was incredibly fun. She didn't ever want the game to stop.

She was just wriggling over a TINY bit closer to Dillon when she felt her phone vibrate in the pocket of her jacket—right between Dillon's side and hers. He could probably feel it too. She tried pulling away a little bit, but there it went again. Buzzing against her side—and Dillon's—over and over again.

“What's that?” Dillon asked, surprised.

Shoot. Maeve did NOT want to answer her phone.

“Oh—nothing,” she said, trying to brush it off with an airy little wave of her hand. But there it went again. And she should've known better. Dillon was Mr. Cell Phone. He knew every last detail about the latest technology and of
course he realized right away that it was her phone buzzing away like that!

“It's your phone,” he told her. “Want to answer it?”

Maeve couldn't think of a good reason to say no. “Sure,” she said uneasily, sliding the phone out and feeling it buzzing away in her hand like it was alive. She popped it open and saw her Dad's new number appear on the screen.

NO
, Maeve thought. This couldn't be happening.

She looked around her in horror. How was she going to disguise the roaring applause all around her? There was no way her father was going to mistake the noise all around her for the sound of five girls having a sleepover at Charlotte's house.

Unless she scooted out of the bleachers and made her way to someplace quiet.

“Dillon, I better answer this outside. I'll be right back,” she said, snapping the phone shut.

She had to say “excuse me” to dozens of people, most of them looking a little irritated as she made her way through the crowded row and out to the stairs. She raced out to the concession stands, heart pounding, and quickly called her father back. PHEW. It was much quieter out here. Maybe she could pull this off.

“MAEVE,” her father said. His voice sounded funny. Not exactly happy with her. “Do you mind telling me where on earth you are?”

Maeve bit her lip and wound a strand of red hair around one finger. This was a tough one. Did he know where she was—or where she WASN'T? She couldn't tell from his voice. She had a horrible choice to make. She could confess right away—but then what if he didn't actually know she wasn't at Charlotte's? Or she could keep up the lie. But then—

She didn't even seem to make the choice consciously. The lie just jumped out of her mouth, like all the ones before it. It was like once this whole thing got rolling, she couldn't find her center anymore. It was like she was in a play and someone was feeding her lines. “I told you,” she said weakly, hoping against hope that he hadn't somehow found out this wasn't true. “Remember? Charlotte's having a sleepover, and—”

“Maeve!” her father broke in, sparing her any further attempts to dig the hole she was in even deeper. “I already called Charlotte's house. They thought you were with ME.”

Maeve felt like all the air had been sucked out of her body. “Oh,” she said in a tiny voice. “They did?”

“Yes, Maeve, they did.” Her father was clearly hopping mad. “And I thought you were with them. And do you know WHY we all thought that?”

“Because…” Maeve glanced around her, hoping no one was listening. Fortunately the couple nearby seemed focused on buying refreshments. “I guess because I told you that,” she said weakly.

She was definitely caught. No doubt about it.

“So let me just repeat my question, Maeve. Where EXACTLY are you?”

“I'm at the Fleet Center,” Maeve whispered. “With Dillon Johnson and his dad. Watching the Celtics game.”

This was greeted with complete and utter silence. Not a word.

Say something, Maeve thought. Don't make me suffer! Yell at me or tell me that I shouldn't have lied—just say SOMETHING. It was just too painful to listen to the shocked silence on the other end of the line.

“I see,” her father said at last. Very quietly.

“Daddy, I was going to tell you…I mean, ask you,” Maeve blurted out. “I swear! It just all got so confusing. I was afraid of hurting your feelings since we had plans for tonight…and then I kind of told Dillon yes and I didn't want you to be mad at me for saying yes without asking first…and then one thing led to another and the next thing I knew I started covering it up…it seemed to take on a life of its own and I just couldn't stop. I'm so sorry.”

“I think,” her father said finally, “that we're going to talk about this when you get home, Maeve. Would you mind telling me when that's going to be?”

“Ten thirty,” Maeve whispered. “The game's almost over, Daddy.”

“I'll be waiting,” her father said shortly. “And Maeve—”

“Yes?” Maeve's mouth felt dry.

“Please call your friends and let them know that you're Okay. They're all frantic about where you are.”

Maeve hit speed dial #4 on her cell phone, leaning back against the wall near the concession stand. Dillon was going to think she'd died out here, which come to think of it, wasn't that far from the truth. She probably WOULD be dead once her parents were through with her. Not to mention her friends. How was she going to explain this to them?

She could hear the crowd cheering wildly inside. Someone had scored for the Celtics.

“Maeve? Where ARE you?” Charlotte cried.

Maeve could hear her calling out to the others. “It's Maeve! She's okay, wherever she is.”

“Charlotte,” Maeve said miserably. This was even worse than talking to her dad. “I'm kind of…this is really confusing, but I'm actually downtown.” She paused. “With Dillon.” She paused again. “At the basketball game. The Celtics.”

Charlotte was quiet for a minute. “But why? I don't get it,” she said.

That was Charlotte, Maeve thought. So loyal and kind. She would NEVER fib to one of her friends.

“Why didn't you tell us you were going with Dillon to the game?”

“I didn't tell you,” Maeve said in a low voice, “because I didn't want you to have to cover for me if my dad called. Everything got so mixed up. I'm SO SO sorry. I didn't mean any of this. I wish it all hadn't happened, but it's too late…”

Maeve could hear Charlotte reporting this back to Isabel, Avery, and Katani. The next thing she knew, Avery had grabbed the phone. Typical Avery. She wanted to know what the score was.

Katani grabbed it next. Katani sometimes had a quick temper, and this was the sort of thing that really got her upset. “Maeve, are you out of your mind? Your dad was really worried…
we
were worried. You told us you were going with your dad and Sam!”

Maeve tried to muddle through her apology again, but Katani was having none of it. “You didn't tell us your parents were separating. And now this.
What
is going on?”

Maeve sniffled. Her eyes were filling with tears. “I'm SORRY,” she cried. “I said I was sorry.”

“Isabel wants to talk to you,” Katani said abruptly.

Yikes, Maeve thought.

Isabel's voice sounded despondent. “Maeve, are you mad at us? Don't you trust us anymore?” she asked plaintively.

Things were getting worse and worse and worse. Maeve just couldn't see how to make them understand. She hadn't intended it to be this way. She'd made one mistake, and then
tried to fix it by covering it up, and the next thing she knew, everything had snowballed. Everyone she cared about was mad and disappointed. And now she was going to have to fake her way through the rest of the evening. Either that, or she was going to have to tell Dillon the truth.

 

Dillon stared at her. “Now? You want to leave NOW?”

The game was tied, 86–86. The crowd was insane with excitement. It was the end of the third quarter, and people were stamping their feet and shouting as the players moved deftly from one side of the court to the other.

Maeve's eyes filled with tears. “I have to, Dillon. I did something wrong, and I have to go home…I have to go home NOW!” In a whisper, she haltingly tried to explain to Dillon what had happened. His eyes got bigger and bigger. This was the most embarrassing moment of her life.

“Okay,” he said at last with a sigh. “Let me tell my dad.”

He leaned over and tapped his father on the shoulder. It took two attempts to get his father to drag his attention away from the court. Maeve thought that everyone in the entire arena could hear his father's expression of utter disbelief when Dillon repeated what Maeve had said—that she needed to go home. NOW.

This time, the “excuse me's” didn't meet with much enthusiasm from their neighbors in the stands. People wanted to watch the game, and they were annoyed with the disruption. Dillon wasn't saying a word, and Dillon's father—well, it was hard to describe the expression on his face. Maeve had a feeling that she wasn't going to be the most popular person in the Johnson household for a while. Gabe was almost purple, he was so upset.

The more she apologized, the worse it got. Finally, she just stopped. The car ride home was interminable. Dillon's father kept trying to find a radio station broadcasting the game. The back of his neck was turning a dull red, which Maeve thought probably wasn't a good sign. Gabe didn't say a single word.

This was not the way Maeve had pictured their evening ending. By the time they got to her dad's place in Washington Square, no one was saying a word.

“I'm so sorry—” Maeve tried for the hundredth time to apologize.

But Dillon just shook his head. “Don't worry,” he whispered. “My dad won't stay mad for long. But I think I better go calm him down, Maeve. He's kind of a freak when it comes to basketball.”

Maeve felt like her face was the color of a tomato when she said good-night to Mr. Johnson. There really wasn't any point in apologizing one more time. Something told her that she'd better save that for her OWN dad.

Maeve opened the door to her father's apartment, her heart pounding. She had no idea what her father was going to say. She'd made mistakes before, but never one this big.

She could hear voices. Her father's—and her mother's.

What was her mom doing here?

She didn't have long to wonder.

“Maeve!” Sam yelled. “You are in SO MUCH TROUBLE!”

“That's enough, Sam,” her mother said. She was standing near Maeve's father in the galley kitchen, her arms crossed. Definitely not looking happy.

Maeve swallowed. “Mom,” she said weakly. “Why are you here? Did Dad tell you—”

Her mother and father glanced at each other. Their expressions were hard to read. It was clear that they were
both angry, but more than that, they seemed disappointed. Really disappointed.

“Mom and Dad,” Maeve gulped. “I am SO SORRY. I don't know how this all even happened. I know I should've asked you guys before I went out with Dillon. But one thing just kind of led to another…and before I knew it…”

“Maeve,” her mother said in a low voice. “You've broken our trust. More than that, you've let down your father—and your brother. Tonight was a big night for them. They were counting on you.”

Maeve hung her head miserably, her eyes brimming with tears.

Her father paced back and forth, massaging his hands. Maeve didn't think she'd ever seen him look this angry and upset.

“Maeve, we were out of our minds with worry. Before we found out where you were—we were frantic. Boston is a big city. Anything could've happened to you!”

Her mother nodded vehemently. “When I got those messages on my cell phone—Maeve. I came racing over here—I didn't know WHAT to think.”

“We can't let this go,” her father added. “Maeve, we've given you a great deal of freedom because you've always earned it. Well, that trust has been broken now. You're going to need to earn it back again.”

Maeve's eyes swam with tears. “What are you saying?” she asked.

“Your mother and I have talked about this,” her father continued, “and we're in full agreement. For the next two weeks, no going out after school—or on the weekends. Just school, lessons, and home.”

Tears spilled down Maeve's cheeks. But her father wasn't done.

“Maeve, this has been a hard time for all of us. But that doesn't mean that any of us should let up on what we care most about. Our trust for each other, our respect for each other, the consideration that we show each other as a family. You really let us down tonight—and you let your friends down, too.”

Maeve struggled to regain her composure. She felt so awful about what had happened. It was horrible being punished. But worst of all was the look of utter disappointment in her parents' eyes.

Her mother put her hand on her father's arm. “Ross, I'm going home. You've got everything under control now.” She turned back to Maeve with a sigh. “I'll see you again on Sunday afternoon, Maeve. We can talk more then.” She gave her daughter a hug and turned to leave.

Maeve sank down onto the couch, trying to piece together everything that had happened. Suddenly she remembered the dinner party at Avery's the following night.

“Wait,” she said, her voice catching. “I'm supposed to go to Avery's house tomorrow night. Remember? Her mom's having that dinner party to raise money for her old school. She asked us all to come over and help her.”

Her mother glanced briefly at her father. “Ross?” she asked.

It was strange, Maeve thought. She couldn't remember the last time her parents had seemed to be in such close agreement. It was like they'd scripted all of this!