She started laughing, but I cut her off.

"I know that everything I do is oh-so-funny, but I'm really scared. Should I tell my parents? Or hope that they won't find out? And are you going to narc me out just so you don't get in trouble?"

25. Oh-So-Funny

"Catholic girls school!?" Eden and Carla cried out together. I had called Eden, and she conferenced Carla in.

Carla said, "Whoa, girl, you are deep in doo-doo."

Eden agreed. "Oh, Marcie, I don't want you to move."

"I don't either," I said. "but I don't know what to do."

"Why don't you talk to your aunt?" Carla asked. "She sounds pretty cool."

"I don't know," I said. "She might tell my parents behind my back."

"How about Alice?" Eden suggested.

We worked and re-worked the topic until it was exhausted, and then I hung up.

I immediately dialed Jerry's number, and right after Jerry answered, my father picked up. "Are you still on the phone?" he asked. "I have to make a call."

"I'll be done in a minute," I promised.

"You've been on for a over an hour," he pointed out. "I need the phone." With that, he hung up.

"Oh, Jerry!" I said. "I have to be quick. Ms. Tandy is right — I have to get a cell phone!"

"Huh?" he replied, "Why would she say that?"

My father knocked on my door. "Are you done yet?" he asked.

"I gotta go," I whispered.

"It's okay," he said. "Will you call me later?"

I went to the kitchen, where I found my aunt alone, pouring herself a cranberry juice. "Can I talk to you?" I asked in a low voice. "Alone?"

It was almost overwhelming, the fear, the anxiety... the sense of impending doom. I didn't want to go to New Jersey. I didn't want to go to military school. Girls school... *that* was something I didn't even want to think. Mainly, I didn't want to stop being Marcie, and now, without wanting to or meaning to, I'd stepped right into trouble again, and I needed help before my parents found out.

Jane walked to the back door and motioned with her head for me to follow. We sat on the back steps together and I told her about the asthma-wall-climbing incident. She started laughing, but I cut her off. I was almost trembling as I spoke.

"I know that everything I do is oh-so-funny, but I'm really scared. Should I tell my parents? Or hope that they won't find out? And now that I told you, are you going to narc me out just so you won't get in trouble?"

She frowned at my last question, but then she said, "Alright. I guess I deserve that. No, I won't rat you out. I swear and I promise to you that from now on, if I feel I have to tell your parents something, I'll tell you first. Okay?" I nodded.

"Okay," she said. "I want you to be able to trust me, because if you feel like there's nowhere to turn, you're going to get into trouble." The trace of an amused smile floated across her face, but she banished it. She took a deep breath and said, "Now let me think for a minute." She looked at the ground, and up at the sky, and after a bit she asked, "What was that teacher's name again?" and "Will you get me my cell phone?"

When I handed her the phone, she said, "I'm going into my garage for a little privacy. I'll make a couple calls and then come find you. Okay?"

I nodded silently and ran off to my room.

About twenty minutes later she came to find me. I was sitting on the floor, hugging my knees, leaning against my bed, nearly dying of suspense and anxiety.

"Denise gave me Tandy's number," Jane said, "and I talked to her about what happened. You did the right thing, telling me while your parents are here. The best thing to do is to tell your parents right now."

"Are you sure?" I said.

"Yes," she replied, "Because there is no way that the principal isn't going to call them. Put yourself in your father's shoes. He goes all the way back to New Jersey, he's at work, and then a phone call comes about you literally climbing the walls."

"He'd throw me into military school," I said.

"He'd be mightily pissed, at very least," she said. "You have to tell your story first. Ms. Tandy offered to come over and talk with them, if you want." She stopped for a minute, then said, "I hope you realize how lucky you are, that she's willing to go to bat for you."

"I guess," I said as I bit my nail.

"No," she said. "Don't guess. I'm telling you." She grabbed me by the shoulders and smiled. "We can do this. You and me. Okay? You ready?"

"No," I replied.

"Good," she said. "Let's go do it. And don't bite your nails."

My parents were sitting in the living room, in a pair of armchairs, reading. I sat down on the couch opposite my dad, and told them a highly condensed version of what happened. It was like pulling a bandaid: I wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. I don't think my father was really listening at first, because he didn't really react. His mind was still inside whatever it was he was reading, so when I finished, he asked me to start at the beginning. Something must have registered, though, because he was listening with a cautious look.

When I came (again) to the part where I climbed up the wall, he threw down his papers and howled, "You did what!?"

I gulped and explained, but each phrase that came out of my mouth was like dry wood on a hot fire. He got angrier and angrier with every detail.

"Let me get this straight," he said. "You climbed up the side of a building, at night, to the third floor, so you could throw a bag out the window?"

"No," I protested. "Cory needed his medicine!"

Jane spoke up. "Artie, hold on. That boy was having an asthmatic crisis. If Marcie hadn't stepped in, he would have ended up in the hospital."

"Of all the lame-brained, thoughtless stunts!" he roared. "What if it was a prank and those two wanted to get you into trouble? What if you'd gotten yourself arrested, or thrown out of school? Did you think about that?"

He paused to make sure I was listening and said very deliberately, "What if you fell? You could have died. You could have been crippled. At the very least you could have been hurt. Did you think about that?"

"No," I whimpered.

By now, he was mad as a simmering volcano. "We told you to keep a low profile. We told you NOT to get into trouble. But what do you do? You put on a skirt and climb up a building! In the dark!"

I struggled for something to say, but all I could do was cry.

"Well, *that* is the end. That's finished it! No more! You're DONE!" he shouted. "You're coming back with us tomorrow! Start packing, because I'm booking your ticket right now! Say goodbye to California!" In a fury, he crammed his papers haphazardly into his briefcase, squeezed it shut, and stormed off to the kitchen.

There was a bang from the kitchen, and he shouted, "And DON'T get on the phone!"

My mother came over to sit next to me. She gently wrapped me in her arms.

"I was only trying to help!" I cried softly.

"I know, hon, I know," she said. "Give your father a chance to calm down, and I'll talk to him."

"Will you really?" I asked. "Will you let me stay here?"

"I'll do what I can," she said. She gave me a little squeeze and rocked me gently. I felt much calmer in her arms, but deep down I was still a quivering mass of fear.

Aunt Jane got up and strode into the kitchen. She said something to my dad, and then I heard the back door slam. I fell silent. Mom stopped rocking.

She whispered, "They went into the back yard." I stopped crying and strained to hear. Soon I heard my aunt yelling. I couldn't make out the words. I heard my father yelling back. They went back and forth for a while, then stopped.

The actually shouting didn't last very long, but they must have kept on talking, because they didn't come back inside.

I nestled deeper into my mother's embrace, and took a deep breath. "Mom," I said, "if I have to go back, I'll go to the girls school, okay?"

My mother started laughing and said, "You would, would you? Oh, you are just too much, Marcie-Warcie! You really are my little girl, aren't you?" and she rocked me in her arms some more, until — after a long time — the back door opened and shut, and my father returned to the room.

I looked up from the safe place in my mother's arms. He didn't look so angry any more.

He cleared his throat. "I talked to your teacher, Ms. Tandy," he said. "She, uh, gave me her point of view... her side of the picture. She said that you did a good thing and a bad thing at the same time."

"Yes?" I said. It sounded promising, but I was still afraid to move.

"And," he continued, "against my better judgment, she persuaded me to let Mr. Bryant decide how best this should be handled. After all, you did what you did on school property." He took a deep breath and went on. "And, ah, Ms. Tandy also pointed out that what you did was, ah... well... heroic." His voice cracked a little on the last word.

"Oh, Artie," my mom said, "are you crying?"

He didn't answer, but he came and sat on the other side of me. We had a big family hug.

I didn't dare ask if this meant that I could stay in California and keep on being Marcie, but it sure looked that way. The wisest thing, I was very sure, was to keep my mouth shut.

Dad said softly, "I'm proud of you and angry at you at the same time. What you're doing worries me terribly, and the fact that you're thousands of miles away doesn't help the situation. I want to put my foot down, but at the same time..."

"Shh, shh," my mother said.

It wasn't long before my father had enough of the hug, and he stood up. "Your Ms. Tandy told me — I mean suggested — that you get a cell phone. Now, I've seen how you tie up the phone like a teenage girl, but I think she's right. I've thought about this before, and we could go tomorrow to pick one up, and put you on our family plan. But you have to promise that you won't abuse it. Don't make me a pauper by yakking it up with your friends."

I nodded. "I'll just use it for emergencies," I promised.

"Famous last words," he countered.

© 2007 by Kaleigh Way