Finding Balance Read online

  “Hey, is it a bad time?” Aunt Trudy asks.

  I shake my head. “No, we’re just finishing dinner. It’s fine.” I point. “Your sister’s in there.”

  “My sister?” Aunt Trudy looks. . . I don’t know what to call it. Like I said something funny.

  “Mary.”

  “I know her name, munchkin.”

  “Where’s Troy?” I look around.

  “He’s with Uncle Paul,” she says. “I actually came by to talk to you.”

  Mary walks into the family room. “Is it Trudy?” She smiles when she sees her sister. “Hey.”

  “I was just telling Amy here that I need to talk to her.”

  “Ah, right.” Mary bobs her head. “Well, I’ll leave you to it.”

  I don’t understand. “You came all the way over here to talk to me?”

  She nods slowly, like this is a big deal. Did I do something wrong? Did Mary tell her I’m not calling her ‘Mom’? Is she mad?

  “Hey, it’s not a job interview,” Aunt Trudy says. “Calm down.” She points at the sofa in the living room. “Can we sit for a second?”

  I gulp.

  She beams and shakes my shoulder a little. “Seriously. I need to talk to you about something good.”

  Good? I follow her over and sit down. “What?”

  “You know I’m getting married in a few days.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, there’s this thing I need.”

  “Oh!”

  “Would you be willing to be a flower girl for me?”

  I beam.

  “It’s a big job. I can’t ask Chase and Troy. They’ll chuck handfuls of flower petals at guests. You’ll need to toss them carefully, and scatter them evenly.”

  Another idea occurs to me. “People dress up for weddings, right?”

  Trudy frowns. “Yes.”

  “And people dance and stuff? And they talk about love and getting married?”

  She nods. “I don’t understand—”

  I tell her about Lucy and Coach Brian, and how I’m going to try and get them to meet tomorrow.

  “That’s a cute idea,” she says. “But I don’t see—”

  “Maybe Hope can be another flower girl. Don’t you usually have two?”

  “Who’s Hope?” Aunt Trudy asks, looking around.

  I laugh. “It’s my chicken. Weren’t you listening? That’s how I know Lucy.”

  “Ah,” she says. “But a chicken can’t be a flower girl.”

  “It’s not like you really need her to be a flower girl.” I sigh. For an adult, Aunt Trudy isn’t being that smart. “She’s just the excuse. So I can invite Lucy to help with her during the wedding. Then she’ll need a date, and I can suggest she take someone who happens to be right there in my garage too.” I tilt my head. “Coach Brian.”

  Aunt Trudy shakes her head like Andy does sometimes, like she’s trying to shake something off. “Whoa. You are a lot like your mom.”

  I frown. “You didn’t even know my mom.”

  “I meant Mary,” Aunt Trudy says. “You’re a lot like Mary.” But she looks hurt. Like I said something bad.

  “Oh.”

  “She was the smartest little girl I’d ever seen, maybe until right now.”

  “Oh.” I swallow. “Thanks, I guess.”

  Aunt Trudy lowers her head a little. “I could not possibly pay you a higher compliment, you know. I don’t know anyone smarter than my big sister. Or anyone kinder. Or anyone with more love in her heart. So to say you remind me of her with this bizarre setup, well, it’s a huge compliment.”

  “So will you help?”

  Aunt Trudy eyes me for a moment. “Sure. But let’s think this through. A chicken can’t possibly toss flowers. But maybe she could be the ring bearer.” Her eyes practically twinkle. “And I suppose the guests will survive if a few handfuls of petals pelt them in the face.”

  “What?”

  “I think this will only work if you say that you and Hope will be my ring bearers, and the boys will be my flower—er.” She clears her throat. “My flower guys.”

  “Does this ruin your wedding?” I scrunch my nose.

  Aunt Trudy wraps an arm around my shoulders. “What do you think weddings are about, kiddo?”

  I shrug.

  “This is my second one, because it took me a while to get this right. Maybe you can learn from my mistakes. Weddings are about love and family, and I can’t think of a better way to honor both than to support my favorite niece in her plans to bring love to two people who have no idea what’s barreling their way.”

  I look down at my feet. “Well, I better go check on Hope.”

  “You do that.” Aunt Trudy drops a kiss on my head.

  I rush out of the room, hoping she didn’t notice that I’m crying.

  The next day, I corner Coach Brian before practice. “Hey Coach.”

  “Oh, hey, Amy. I meant to tell you, the way you have memorized those lines is an inspiration.”

  Ooh, this could be a good way to work Hope into the conversation. “Thanks. I sit outside with my recovering pet chicken every day and work on them.”

  The side of his mouth turns up in a weird half smile. “Well, that’s an interesting method I’ve never heard of, but if it works for you, great. Maybe you should try and memorize Annie’s lines too, just in case.”

  “In case what?” What’s he talking about?

  “You never know what might happen.” He shrugs. “What if Piper got sick? Who would step in? If you knew the lines, we could make Laura take over for you, maybe. And we could still have the play.”

  I frown. “I already know all of Annie’s lines.” I clear my throat. “I’m not an orphan. My mother and father left a note saying they loved me and they were coming back for me.” I toss my hair.

  Coach Brian laughs. “Brilliant.”

  I roll my eyes. “I just wanted to tell you something before practice starts.”

  “Oh?”

  “Hope is doing so well that my mom said it’s fine!”

  “Huh?”

  “I asked her if you can come meet Hope, and she said yes, but that you needed to come today. Because my Aunt is getting married soon and things are really busy. So can you?”

  “Can I?” He blinks. “Can I come see your chicken?”

  “Yes.” I keep my eye on him. People try and change their mind sometimes unless you really stare at them.

  “Uh well, I guess so. But I can’t stay for more than a minute.”

  I can’t keep from smiling. “Great. A minute is fine. I mean, it’s only a chicken. How long will it take?” I spin around on my heel and run to a seat. It’s hard to pay attention to the practice when I’m so excited.

  At the end, Mrs. Tassain hands me a bag. “This is your costume. I need you to try it on and make sure it will fit.”

  “Oh,” I say. “Okay, thanks.”

  Coach Brian is disappearing out the door, so I sprint to catch up. “Hey, Coach.”

  “Oh. Hi, Amy. I was looking for you.”

  It didn’t look like it. I was right in front of him when he left. “Well, I’m here. Are you ready? Maybe you can follow us—”

  “I’m not sure—”

  I shake my head. “It won’t take long. Please?”

  “Alright.” He sighs. “You’re a persistent little thing. I’ll give you that.”

  But he’s coming. That’s what matters.

  “Hey,” I say when I hop in the car.

  “Is everything a go?” Mary glances back at me.

  I smile. “It is.”

  “Great.” She waves at Coach Brian. “You want to follow me?”

  Mrs. Tassain taps on the window and Mary rolls it down. “I hear Coach Brian has an invite to see this royal chicken Amy is always talking about. Mine must have gotten lost in the mail.”

  My mouth drops open.

  “You wouldn’t be trying to set him up, would you?” Mrs. Tassain whispers.

  Mary laughs,
like a full out, belly laugh.

  “I’ll take that as a yes, and in that case, I’m happy to stand here with the kids alone while he ditches me to go to Casa Manning.” Mrs. Tassain throws me a thumbs up. “Good luck.”

  Huh. People are pretty nice, if you give them the chance to be. I notice Piper—her mom must be late again—scowling at me as we drive away.

  Some people, anyway.

  “I hope you had a great day,” Mary says.

  “I did,” Chase says. “I made a fossil today.”

  “You made a fossil?” I ask.

  “With salt bread.” He beams. “Wanna see?”

  A crusty, flat piece of bread with a tiny dinosaur skeleton, probably from a toy, is pressed into my face. “That’s great,” I say. “Really cool.”

  “It is.” Chase snatches it back and pokes at it.

  That won’t survive the day. “I had a good day too.”

  “Good,” Mary says. “Because I need to ask you about something.”

  “You do?” For some reason that makes me nervous. “Is Aunt Anica alright?”

  Mary groans. “By ‘alright’ do you mean, is she still lounging around the house all the time in her pajamas, grumbling?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Then she’s fine.”

  “Okay.”

  “But Geo called me today.”

  “Your friend Geo?”

  Mary nods. “Her business is doing so well that she needs to hire a new employee. There’s a lady she liked, but she was nervous about her.”

  “Why are you telling me?” I ask.

  “Well, it turns out the woman’s daughter goes to school with you.” Mary stops at the same stop light where we always get stuck. “Geo thought you might have some insight into what kind of employee she would be, based on what kind of parent she is.”

  Uh-oh. “Who is it?” But I already know. She would have just asked if I knew her if it was anyone else. Mary knows that I know one person in particular.

  “It’s Piper.”

  Of course it is. I groan. “What did you tell her?”

  “I told her that Piper was a little jerk,” Mary says. “I told her she made your life miserable and that it was almost certain that her mother was awful too. I said that if she hired her, I’d never talk to her again.”

  My heart soars. “You did?”

  “I did.”

  I can’t stop my smile.

  “But then, I thought about my daughter.”

  Her daughter. It makes me happy and sad at the same time. Am I her daughter? And if I am, am I still my real mom’s daughter? Why is this so confusing?

  “And I thought about the kind heart my daughter has.”

  What does that mean, a kind heart? Does it mean that I shouldn’t want something bad to happen to Piper, the girl who’s always so mean to me? Because I do, and I feel kind of embarrassed about that. “What if I don’t have a kind heart?”

  Mary shrugs. “That would be okay. But I told you before that I suspected Piper might be having trouble. What kind of person do you think looks for a new job?”

  I gulp.

  “Did you know that I lost my job on Monday?” Mary’s words are tight, like they hurt to say. “It was the right decision, and I don’t regret it. But it still hurts. I loved my job, and I worked hard at it, and to not have a job I love, well. Even though your dad makes plenty of money and we don’t need the money I make to pay our bills, losing it was hard for me. If I did need the money from my job to pay my bills, like I needed it before I met your dad, well.” She sighs. “That would be even harder. I might be mean or crabby or rude.”

  “I guess.” I don’t really pay a lot of attention to other people, usually. But Piper is always waiting for her mom.

  “Piper’s mother was working as a store clerk at the grocery store. She has been wanting to plan events, but she hasn’t ever done it. Geo wanted to know how she dealt with people when she wasn’t interviewing for a job. When I told her how her daughter treated you, she said she’d never hire her.”

  That makes me feel really bad.

  “And then I felt guilty about what I said, about maybe making someone whose life is hard even harder.” Mary’s quiet after that.

  Chase sings a song about a tooty-tot.

  “Maybe—” But I can’t quite say it. I’m not nearly as nice as Mary thinks I am.

  “Maybe what?” The hope in her voice hurts.

  “Maybe Piper’s mean because you pick me up on time every day and her mom’s always late.” I bite my lip and think about her sequins and sparkly shoes. She can’t be that poor. She always has the nicest clothes and shoes. She made fun of me for being poor—she does that a lot. What if. . . “And maybe she’d be nicer if her mom had a job she liked.”

  “Perhaps,” Mary says, “but that’s your call. I told Geo that perhaps I was mistaken. I told her I’d talk to you and call her back.”

  I gulp. Mary told me she wouldn’t do anything about the Piper thing, other than offer suggestions, and she did that. She says it’s up to me. And I guess I know what Piper would do if she were me, but I don’t want to be like her. Even so, it’s really, really hard for me to say, “I think. . . I think you should tell Geo to give her mom a chance.”

  Mary only nods, but when I look at her face in the rear view mirror, she’s smiling. It makes me think that I did what she would have done, and that makes me proud.

  When we pull into the garage, I nearly forget that Coach Brian is right behind us. I practically leap from the car. “What time is it?”

  “Two minutes until Lucy should show up,” Mary says with a smirk.

  “Oh, I hope this works.”

  “Are you saying that you hope they’ll get married?” Mary’s eyes rise quickly. “That is a lot of expectation to put on this little meeting. Maybe we just hope that they’ll be friends.”

  “Lucy’s a good person,” I whisper. “And so is Coach Brian. I can tell. They should be a lot happier with another good person.”

  “It’s not always quite that simple.” Mary laughs. “But I suppose stranger things have happened than a second grader setting up two people successfully.”

  I throw my bag into the laundry room and race back into the garage. Coach Brian looks pretty uncomfortable talking to Mary, whose stomach is so big it bumps into everything all the time.

  “So, this is Hope,” I say. “She still has to be force fed every day, every two hours. She won’t eat on her own.” I sit down by the box. “Here, I can show you how we do it.”

  Coach Brian’s eyebrows rise. “You do it?”

  I nod. “It’s hard, and sometimes she’s kind of annoying to feed, but Mary and Dad let me do it when I’m home.”

  Coach Brian blinks. “She’s very pretty for a chicken. I guess I always thought they were all brown or white. I didn’t expect her to be bluish grey. Or for her feathers to all look so different.”

  “A lot of them are brown or white,” I say. “But she’s an Andalusian and they lay white eggs. She can fly too—when she’s not hurt.”

  “Wait, she can?” He crouches down so he’s closer to her. She clucks softly.

  “I think she likes you,” I say.

  “How many eggs does she lay?” he asks.

  “None right now,” a voice behind us says. Lucy! “Who’s this?”

  Coach Brian leaps to his feet. “Oh.” He blinks. “I’m Coach Brian.”

  “Please tell me you’re not a life coach,” Lucy says with a funny look on her face.

  “I’m a PE coach for Joshua Elementary,” he says. “But sometimes it feels like the same thing.” He looks down at me. “Stay away from drugs young lady, you hear me?”

  It’s a dumb joke, but Lucy laughs anyway. I think that’s a good sign. “Lucy owns Hope.” I frown. “Or she did own Hope. She’s mine now, right?”

  Lucy smiles at me. “She sure is. With the amount of work you guys have been putting in to help her, you’ve definitely earned the right to kee
p her as your pet.” She crouches over the box. “I came to check on her back.”

  “What happened?” Coach Brian asks.

  “My dog got confused,” I say. “But Andy comes with us into the garage all the time now, and she’s fine with her. She never even growls or anything. I think she didn’t know Hope, and she was worried that since she flew over the fence, she was a threat. Usually Great Pyrenees are really good with chickens. They’re guardian dogs.”

  “Sometimes I think Miss Amy here should be teaching at the school,” Coach Brian says. “She might know more than me.”

  Lucy laughs even harder this time, even though this joke is even worse. I don’t know anything about how to teach kids to play baseball or basketball or football. But her laughing makes me smile. “He’s the best coach ever,” I say. “And he’s the director for our musical, too.”

  “Is he?” Lucy asks. “That kind of makes me feel guilty. I’m not the best at anything.”

  “I doubt your patients would say that,” Mary says. “I’m sure they appreciate your particular skillset a great deal.”

  “Are you a doctor?” Coach Brian asks.

  Lucy shakes her head. “You sound like my mom, but I’ll tell you what I told her. Doctors have to do all the miserable stuff. I’m a nurse. They have to rush from room to room while I have more time to care for each patient. I prefer to nurture the patients, not cut on them.”

  “Admirable,” Coach Brian says. “I’ve always thought nurses were basically saints.”

  “Hardly,” Lucy says. “But thanks anyway.”

  “Hey, I needed to ask you for a favor,” I say.

  “Who?” Coach Brian asks.

  “Sorry,” I say. “Lucy.”

  She pokes Hope again and stands up. “Her back is healing up really well. I know it looks scary, but those dragon scales are actually exactly what you want to see at this stage. Her body has covered all the damage—all those holes Andy made with her teeth, and now underneath all that mess, her body is regrowing both skin and muscle. The fact that she can stand now and that she drinks on her own sometimes, well.” She shakes her head. “It’s practically miraculous, really. I think you’re okay to discontinue the antibiotics.”

  “Coming from a nurse and our chicken expert,” Mary says. “That’s great news.”

  “Now if she’ll just perk up enough to start eating on her own,” Lucy says, “you’ll be in the clear.” She leans down to pet Hope’s head, and then turns to me. “What favor did you want to ask me, little nurse?”