“They will,” Fiona predicted. “Hardly any sophomores go.”
“Do you think I’ll make the A team someday?”
Surprised, Fiona said, “Sure I do. Very likely next year,
with Erin and Troy gone. You just have to get bolder.”
“I know.” She fell silent for a moment. “What’s
everybody doing?”
“Reading. Playing games.”
“Oh.” She sounded wistful.
“As soon as you feel better, go on down. I’ll bet you
can get in on the Chinese checkers, anyway.”
She nodded, but said nothing.
Fiona hesitated. “It’s too bad you don’t have a
friend you could have talked into joining Knowledge
Champs with you. With Erin and Troy graduating next
year, we could use some more freshmen and sophomores.”
“I don’t, um, really have any friends. We moved in
August. From Denver. Dad took a new job in Portland.
I guess he thought we wouldn’t be as sad in a different
place. You know.”
“I imagine that sometimes a change of scene does
help. It’s hard leaving friends, though.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Nobody is that friendly
here! I wish I could go to the public school, but Dad
says I’ll get into a better college if I stay at Willamette.”
The prep school where Fiona taught did regularly
send graduates to colleges like Stanford, Columbia and
Yale. Still…
“Does he know how unhappy you are?”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to make him sad
again. He thinks I love it here.”
Fiona wasn’t sure what to say. Willow, her brother
and dad were probably all pretending to be happier
after the move, none of them willing to acknowledge
anything was wrong with their new life. And, given her
grief, Willow might not do any better making friends at
the public high school.
With new determination, Fiona decided that she was
going to do her darndest to see to it that Willow did
make friends at Willamette Prep. A boyfriend would
follow. Minus the braces, she’d be a pretty girl if she
came out from behind the hair she hid behind and
smiled more often.
“Cramps letting up?” she asked.
“Yeah,” the fifteen-year-old said tentatively. Then,
“Yeah. I feel better.”
“Good. You want to come downstairs?”
“Um…I guess.” She released her death grip on the
pillow and rolled off the bed onto her feet. “I don’t
think Amy likes Hopper anymore.”
Fiona laughed. “I noticed. She’s not so crazy about
Troy, either.”
Willow wrinkled her nose. “He was kind of mean to
her. You know. Outside.”
“She should have dumped snow down his neck.”
Willow giggled, then pulled her lips over her braces.
Downstairs, Kelli and Troy had just finished a
game and he was saying, “I’m going to go find something to eat.”
Kelli spotted Willow, and to Fiona’s relief said, “You
want to play a game?”
“Sure.”
Fiona went to the small-paned window near the front
door and looked out. How could it still be snowing?
Another twenty-four hours of this, and the front porch
would be buried! They might have to tunnel out.
Turning away, she thought of choosing a book from
the tall cases along the wall beneath the staircase, but
realized she ought to find out first what John planned
for dinner and then decide on preparation and cleanup
crews. She was beginning to feel like an innkeeper. Did
they ever get to relax? Imagine if all the rooms upstairs
were full, as well as the cabins Dieter had told her were
down by the river. John must often cook for a crowd
three or four times the size of their group, and this was
enough work.
Troy came back from the kitchen crunching on an
apple and sank down to sit beside Kelli and watch the
game of Chinese checkers.
Fiona went to the kitchen.
John still sat at the kitchen table, but now had a book
open. At the sound of her footstep, he looked up.
“Hungry?”
“Lunch wasn’t that long ago. Only teenage boys are
hungry an hour after they get up from the table.”
He smiled briefly. Probably longing for her to go