The Right and the Real Read Online Free PDF Page B

lot to me, and sometimes it makes me wonder if I’m actually a really shallow person, but I don’t think so, because tonight, the pain felt very real.
    Once I’d gotten onto the shoulder of the road, I made myself do some deep breathing, and after a few minutes, I looked around and got my bearings. I wasn’t too far from a side street that dead-ended into a little park where the drama kids would sometimes go late at night to mess around and drink, and so I drove there.
    It was only five o’clock, but almost dark already. I sat there, leaning my head against the steering wheel, and the tears came again. They poured down my face, dripping onto my jeans, leaving dark blue splotches. By the time I’d cried out every drop, the streetlights had come on, giving the park an unnatural glow. The merry-go-round sat deserted, calling to me.
    A minute later, I grabbed the icy bar and ran around and around and around, my shoes sending up a spray of sodden dirt and gravel. When my legs felt all rubbery and cold air stung my lungs, I leapt up onto the rough platform and threw myself down on my back. Above me, the night sky alternated with the streetlamp, making a blur, and I held on, gripping the cold metal to keep from being flung off.
    The merry-go-round creaked and groaned, eventually slowing down and then stopping. I lay there, waiting for my insides to catch up with my body and the dizziness to subside. A cloud shifted, and a tiny bit of moon poked out. The cold air had cleared my head; now I knew what to do.
    I’d go to the Right & the Real for Wednesday Night Fellowship, and I’d sign the Pledge. And then my dad would let me back in the house. I knew he was just trying to scare me into thinking he was serious about kicking me out, and I decided I’d make him sweat it out a little. It wouldn’t hurt him to worry about me for a few days.
    At the Coffee Espress-O, I washed my face in the bathroom sink and then I ordered a bagel and a double mocha and sat by the electric fireplace for a while. Before I left, I bought Krista a vanilla latte because it was her favorite and drove over to her house.
    “Do you think your mom and George would mind if I stayed a few more days with you?” I asked when she answered the door. “The lovebirds want to be alone.” I forced a smile.
    “Sure,” she said, taking the drink I offered her. “Mom had to go to Seattle for her job, but George won’t mind. Come on in.”
    I could’ve told Krista what happened, but after all the crying, I didn’t really have the energy to talk about it. Besides, I only needed a place to crash for two nights. By Wednesday, I’d be back at home, so she would never need to know my dad had kicked me out.
    “What are all those boxes for?” Krista asked me, when we climbed into the Beast the next morning.
    I kept my voice light. “Just stuff Mira wants me to give to the Salvation Army.”
    “I can barely see.” She adjusted the rearview mirror. “Maybe we should dump them off on the way to school.”
    “I doubt they’re open,” I said. “I’ll do it later.”
    She shrugged. “Okay.”
    In the locker room after PE, I mentally counted my money while I tried to make my hair look like Ms. Fitzpatrick hadn’t run us ragged in ballet. It was beginning ballet, and I only took it because it was better than volleyball or field hockey, plus it kept me in shape for my real dance classes, which I took on Saturdays at the Bright Lights Studio.
    PE ballet was pretty easy, but I always worked up a sweat anyway. Short hair was tough for me. When it was long, I’d worn it in a bun like Liz, and it always looked pretty okay afterward, but now it was a damp bird’s nest. I gave up on it, applied fresh lip gloss, and touched up my eye shadow.
    I had plenty of cash for lunch and gas because Grandpa had always given me money for birthdays and Christmas, which I’d tucked away. And I’d saved almost all the money I’d earned last summer for acting in
Peter Pan
too.