A Penny in Time Chapter 9: Courage (part 2)

Fifteen and twenty-one equaled thirty-six, the same age my mother is now.  My Mom would be fifty-seven in twenty-one years, old but not ancient.  But I guess I wouldn't know what she even looked like in twenty-one years if I wasn't going to be there.  And I wouldn't know anything about anybody; my grandparents, my Dad, Slinky, Frank, Dean, Fran, Annie and all my other friends.  Or how ninth grade would be, let alone the next twenty-one years of my life on Earth.

"Would Sarree be a good mother?"  Better than me? I wondered.

"She wants only what is best for Yugo, even if it means giving him up to you.  She would do that out of love for him, and I think that defines a good parent."

I thought about my Mom...and my Dad.  I knew my Mom cared about my best interests, but to tell the truth, I had some doubts about my Dad.

"Would you be a good father?"  The nagging uncertainty that had been hovering over my thoughts was out of my mouth, but I couldn't forget that Mr. D had rejected Yugo when he first met us at the gate.

Mr. D's face crinkled and he bowed his head.  I don't think I hurt his feelings, exactly.  More like he admitted there was some truth to what I'd said.

"I would try my very best," he replied, like he was pledging his word of honor.  "I know that I would.  For his sake, for Sarree, for my own.  And, for you.  I have come to understand a great deal about love, because of you."

I felt my face flush.  I wondered if Mr. D could see the color red, or if he only sensed emotions.  "Why did the Perfect Council go all weird about the pennies?"  I dug them out of my pocket and put them in front of us on the table.

Mr. D stiffened, a rather odd reaction to a measly five cents.  "That is a great deal of wealth to us here, Dusty."

"Five pennies?" I quipped, arranging them in row.  "What's so valuable about these?"

"They contain the most precious resources on our planet.  Resources that are regenerated every five hundred years."  Mr. D's hand fluttered, then tapped lightly on the tabletop.  "Just the minute amount of copper and zinc found in one penny allows us to build and maintain our city for a hundred years."

"You mean, I'm rich here?"  What a neat thought!

"You are indeed," he answered with a chuckle, then, sounding just like an adult, added, "but you must realize you offended everyone by trying to buy Yugo."

Like I was some kind of slave trader!  "I did not!" I shouted, totally mad.  "They acted like he was worthless and all I wanted to prove was that I'd give everything I had to save him!"

Mr. D drew back.  "Yes, of course, I know that.  But there will be those who say you did not save Yugo out of love, but for gain.  There will always be someone who will find fault with the why and wherefore of what you do."

"And I thought this was a perfect society," I groused.  "No more perfect than my own."  I wasn't real sure that I wanted to be left out of my rightful place back home, anymore.

"Dusty," Mr. D whispered, though Yugo slept on unaware of us and no one else could have overheard us, "look out the window!"

The colorless sky was no more!  Streaks of reds, purples and pinks fanned across the horizon, like a brilliant Seattle sunset, though there hadn't been any sun to set.  Lots of dust maybe, but no sun that I ever saw.

"What happened?" I whispered back.

"Once in a million years!"  Mr. D's eyes sparkled and his face lit up with a smile.  "This is a most rare occurrence!"  He reached over and grabbed my hands pulling me onto my feet, adding with a little laugh, "You might say you've brought color to our world!"

He motioned to me and I swept Yugo into my arms as I followed Mr. D outside.  A great crowd had gathered all along the sidewalks and in the street.  A hushed murmur followed us as we walked down the middle of the street through a path left open for us.  I felt x-rayed.  Mr. D came to a halt in front of the mass and stood transfixed before the silent fireworks in the sky.  Yugo woke and I shared his sense of joy and wonderment.

Then he began to chitter, squirming in my arms, and I knew Sarree was somewhere near us.  I watched him eagerly searching for his mother, trying to communicate with me his sense of rightness, hope and belonging.  I clutched him tighter, willing him to stop, but I knew I had already lost that special link with him.

I had to look away, up at the sky.  Rainbows danced in my teary eyes.  Once in a million years wouldn't be enough for me, that much I knew as a deep, intense longing filled me to go back home.  I tried to tell myself that I was picking up Yugo's emotions, but I knew that this was my own, my very own, feeling.  I guess I knew all along that it wouldn't work out with me staying here, that sooner or later I would want to go home again.

I understood it all; and I didn't understand any of it.  The pain that had ripped my heart in two, left me feeling oddly at peace.  I scanned the crowd, looking for that face I would recognize as Sarree.  It wasn't hard to find her, for she was staring at me.  Me and Yugo.  Yugo blipped like radar when he spied her.  I had a choice:  break eye contact and turn away, or smile.

She strained to see over someone's shoulder and I lost sight of her momentarily.  When I saw her head pop into view, I smiled and moved so that there was a space for her.

The sky dripped colors, like a wet painting.  The gallery of Monosapiens oohed and ahhed, as Sarree squeezed between me and Mr. D.  Yugo chirped and mewed, rocking in my arms, delighted that he had us all together.  He reached out for Sarree and she hesitated but a fraction of a second before she took him from me.

He has it all, I thought, watching them, happy for all of them, yet tasting the bitterness of my loss.  Mr. D smiled lovingly at Sarree and Yugo, his massive, white-furred hand on Sarree's elbow.  She nuzzled Yugo, stroking his cheek.  It was a perfect picture of a perfect family.

I was not the only one viewing the perfect scene, for others had noticed.  It seemed all eyes were on us.  What did they expect?  I'd go crazy and run up and down the street, shouting and swearing?  I stood quietly beside the family reunion until the onlookers lost interest and went back to sky gazing, then made my way back to Mr. D's house.

It wasn't easy to find.  I had to walk up and down the little paths to the front doors and check out the nameplates.  It would have been smart of me to have counted the houses, but it seems I get these good ideas too late.  I had only walked in the door when Mr. D came in behind me.

"Dusty," he acknowledged my pain in saying my name.

"It's okay, Mr. D, really.  I thought about it, and I know that it's better for Yugo to be with his mother.  There's whole a lot I don't know about raising a Monosapien."  I laughed, but it was half-heartedly.

He tipped his head.  His smile was so nice, and his eyes were so kind!
"I'd like to go home."

"Yes."  He indicated the five pennies on the table.  "Take them."
I shook my head.  "No, I'd like Yugo to have them."

Mr. D clasped his hands, his face a map of concerns.  "That would not be wise.  So much wealth for one individual would be a terrible imbalance in our society."

"Then for the three of you!" I shot back.

Eyes downcast, he sighed.  "No."

With my back to Mr. D, I wiped the table clean of the pennies.  I was about to pocket them all when I flashed on  finding Yugo in the desert.  There were probably others out there left to die.

I plunked a penny down on the table, turned and faced Mr. D.  "Then this should be plenty to get enough food and shelter for all the misbegottens."

I had stunned Mr. D, I could see it in his face.  "You will make sure of it, won't you Mr. D?"

"Of course I will," his voice rose and filled the room with warmth.  "Of course I will," he repeated, coming to me and hugging me tightly.  "Oh, Dusty, what a legacy you've left us!"

Well, at least it wasn't a bad pun like my Dad would have made.  But still, I finally appreciated how making 'sense' could mean a lot of different things, all at the same time.

I was smothering and pulled away from Mr. D's chest.  "Mr. D, how am I going to get home?  I don't have a magic ring, ruby slippers or a mirror, so what's left---a space ship?"

He planted his hands firmly on my shoulders.  I sucked on the inside of my bottom lip, to keep from smiling and crying, for I felt like doing both.  We locked eyes, and I knew I would miss him and Yugo a lot, for a long, long time.

"I won't forget you, ever," I said, without even a crack in my voice.

He dropped his hands from my shoulders, brushing one hand across my forehead and down my cheek.  "Nor I you."

Out of the corner of my eye I could see through the window that the colors had begun to wash out of the sky.  Everyone began to drift away.  Sarree and Yugo would be home soon.

"Just open your eyes, Dusty," intoned Mr. D.  "Open your eyes."

Weren't my eyes already open?  Confused, I squinted hard, trying to focus on Mr. D.  I blinked and blinked again.

A Penny in Time Chapter 8: To Be (part 2)

I felt unlimited respect for Mr. D right then.  Not just because he was going to get me out of this jam, which I really did appreciate, don't get me wrong, but also because I think it took a lot of courage for him to come forth and put himself on the line.  After all, when I was safe and snug back home, he'd still be here, having to live with and face the judge and jury, so to speak.

But the thought of going home without Yugo demoralized me.  I couldn't let him go that easily, not now that I had grown to love him so much.  My thoughts and feelings were in a whirlwind and I missed some of what was being said between Mr. D and Judge Ludwig.

Then the quiet man on the end spoke up, his voice pealing throughout the chamber.  "What Mr. dIAmand says has merit.  Indeed, our society is no longer self-perpetuating.  According to the latest census, over half the population is sterile."  He swiveled in his seat, inspecting the crowds in front and behind him as if to let this sink in the collective minds of the Monosapiens.  "Indeed, the next generation will be the last," he proclaimed, returning to face us.   "And I feel it is of the utmost importance to consider changes that will benefit our society, whatever the price may be."

"But Mr. Light, the consequences!" exclaimed the man next to him.  "It would mean restructuring our entire society---social unrest!  Why there is no end to the chain of changes!  From the government, right down to the individual's everyday habits!"

Mr. Light looked briefly at me and winked.  "Yes, indeed, Mr. Stix, it would mean a lot of changes.  But I have a tremendous amount of faith in the intelligence of each individual and the woof and warp of our society.  I don't see that we have recourse to do otherwise, and perhaps now is the time to accept changes and begin."

The chamber vibrated as the crowd cheered.  Everyone clapped and stood in unison.  Mr. Light had the approval of all but four of the entire population of Monosapiens.

"Begin," Mr. D repeated softly to me, "to write history anew."  He took my hand in his.  "Now, they'll have to vote on it."

Judge Ludwig, Mrs. Furbal, Mr. Reader, Mr. Stix and Mr. Light stole glances at one another.  The corners of Mr. Light's mouth turned up a bit, as if he were really enjoying this sort of battle with the giants.  Maybe he was, or maybe he really believed the time had come and he was ready to fight for this cause.  I liked him and even Yugo twisted around to peer at him, murmuring contentedly.

I still had a thing or two to say about this whole thing.  I wasn't going to let go of Yugo, no matter if the panel decided in his favor or not, and I wanted some answers to questions that bubbled inside me like shaken soda pop.  I took a quick look around me.

If I'd thought the trial was odd, the crowd was totally bizarre.  Everyone remained standing, although there wasn't a peep from anyone.  Somewhere out there was the other woman, the one who had looked so distressed, so interested in Yugo.  I expected her to come and join forces with us.  But she didn't and I had a hard time not asking Mr. D about her right then and there.  I had a gut feeling that I shouldn't, so I kept quiet and waited with Mr. D, getting antsier by the minute.

"Elizabeth Conner!" and the gavel rapped.

I nearly dropped Yugo on his head.

"It has been determined that you are no longer involved with the issues at hand.  Therefore, you are entrusted to Mr. dIAmand's custody until you are returned home."

I could see that pleased Mr. D.  We both fixated on the judge's face, waiting for his next pronouncement.

"And let it be recorded that the misbegotten has been claimed by Mr. dIAmand."  Two thwacks of the gavel stopped anyone from uttering a noise.  "May I have your attention please!  All citizens are reminded that it is their civic duty to attend all meetings in regard to the changes herewith in our society.  Please have your concerns and opinions, and hopefully," for the first time Judge Ludwig looked friendly, "solutions, in written form for review.  Thank all of you for your concern and attendance.  This case before the Perfect Council has been decided and dismissed."

There was an orderly progression out the doors, with so little noise that I had to wonder if these Monosapiens spoke to one another.

"Yes, but most times there is agreement, therefore no need to talk about it," Mr. D piped up, taking my hand and pulling me along to the main door.

"What is it you have, esp?" I inquired, really wanting to ask more pressing questions.

"Somewhat, my dear.  Come, Dusty, I will answer all those questions at home."

We walked away from the brightly lit buildings of downtown, down the dreary residential streets, each lined with strips of drab colored grass.  The air was thick, but had no smell like fog or mist or before-rain, although the sky was overcast with gloomy clouds.  The scenery was the same and I wondered if anything would really change.

I still marveled that Mr. D could find his house among so many look-alikes.  But he did.

And there was another care package for Yugo on the doorstep.  I searched the bushes for the not-so-perfect woman, Yugo intently looking, too, like it was some kind of game, but I couldn't see her.

This time, after he had made the formula, Mr. D sat on the couch with me as I fed Yugo in my lap.  We had a mutual understanding that we would wait until Yugo was asleep before we had our little discussion.

Mr. D motioned to the dining room table.  I slipped Yugo onto the warm spot where I had been sitting and petted him as he curled into a tight little ball.  Looking at him innocently asleep made me feel protective of him.  It was painful, like touching him would have burned my hand.  I guess we had been through so much together that we had a pretty strong bond, a love that could be both tender and tough at the same time.  But another little voice inside my head nagged at me to take a good look at him, he's growing so big, so fast, he wasn't going to be a cute little baby for much longer.  He would grow up and I'd better face it, I'd have my hands full.  But my heart answered that it didn't matter how big he got, I'd love him anyway.

I sat down at the table and Mr. D clasped his hands over mine.  "Dusty," he looked me straight in the eyes, "you showed remarkable courage in front of the Perfect Council."  He paused a bit, shyly adding, "I was so proud to know you!"  He squeezed my hands before letting go and sitting back. "Now, I'll answer your questions."

I asked the one question that I feared the answer to the most.  "Who is that woman who left the care packages for Yugo?  I saw her out there, and in the front tier of the chambers, too."

I had been afraid to know for myself, but when I saw the pain in Mr. D's eyes, the way he squared his shoulders and braced himself to reply, I was sorry I had to know:  I had this spooky feeling that Mr. D's story somehow would turn out to be mine, too.

A Penny in Time Chapter 7: Changin' Addi-Paddi (part 2)

I was going to tell him that no matter what was decided, I wanted him to know that I liked him for being who he was. I snapped the scarf out of the belt loops and stood before a mirror on the far wall adjusting it so that it laid symmetrical, then yanked one end longer than the other. Mr. D. waved the crisp piece of paper, as if to hurry me along.

 "Elizabeth Conner, bring the misbegotten."

"Come on, Yugo," I cuddled him close as I walked out the front door Mr. D slammed shut and locked.  There was movement in the bushes and I thought I saw a face, but it disappeared so suddenly I wasn't sure I had really seen anything at all.  "Mr. D. there's someone..."

He cut me off abruptly with,  "All are at the Perfect Chambers.  And from now on, you must call me Mr. dIAmand.  We mustn't tarry, the proceedings have already begun."

Mr. D didn't say another word as he strode toward the center of the city, me trailing behind, Yugo warm and heavy in my arms.  It seemed I had just caught my second wind, when Mr. D trotted up a set of stairs leading to the largest building of the city and held open a massive, glass door etched with a figure eight, which I recognized as the symbol of infinity.

I thought Mr. D had gone back to his high and mighty manner, but he whispered as I entered, "I shall wish for us the best outcome, the best for us all."

He preceded me into the chamber, leaving me below as he ascended stairs to the first level, nodding to those in the aisle seats, then found a seat in the front row.

The room must have been the size of Atlantis, and as I scoped it out I could see it, too, was shaped in a huge figure eight, with twenty tiers of seats in each rounded end, narrowing into the middle open space where there was a stage.  The place was jammed full of Monosapiens.  The room buzzed with talk, until I walked up in front of a stage where a panel of five sat.

A million eyes had tracked my every footstep up here.  Now I felt like Daniel in the lion's den before a bunch of ravenous creatures waiting to pounce on me.  The silence was so silent that I heard my own breathing.  Yugo was strangely quiet, too.  My right hand lay over his chest and I felt the evenness of his breathing and soft thudding of his heart.  How could he be so serene when I was a whirlwind of anxiety and doubts?

"You are Elizabeth Conner."  The cream-colored, furry hand slapped a gavel down, echoing the sharpness of his voice. His nameplate read ‘Judge Ludwig’.

It was a statement, not a question.  I nodded, clutching Yugo a little tighter.  A female sat beside Judge Ludwig and tapped a pencil, eraser side down, on a file folder, a fat file folder. Until she spoke, Mrs. Furbal looked like a really nice grandmother, with heart-shaped pink lips and wearing granny glasses.

"We have compiled facts of this case presented before us regarding the misbegotten."  Mrs. Furbal riffled through papers and handed a sheet to Judge Ludwig as he continued.  "The misbegotten by the name of Yugo, brought into the Perpetual City by one Elizabeth Conner."  He looked at me as if I should confirm what he said, so I nodded.

"First of all," the five Monosapiens on the panel peered at me, like they measured me for good sense, "this is not a judgment of you.  We understand the dilemma you are in, one of emotional attachment to the misbegotten, without a clear comprehension of the larger issues, which we hope to clarify for you."

Mrs. Furbal spoke next, avoiding me, focusing on the paper in front of her.  "The larger issues are:  if acknowledged, the misbegotten must be claimed by his parents; there is the question of what is to be done about the coupling/uncoupling; and what deleterious effect will this have on the progeny of the couple, the economical  repercussions, and ultimately, what effect will this have on our society?"

"Well said, Mrs. Furbal," remarked the man sitting on her right, Mr. Reader.  In agreement, the others, Mr. Stix and Mr. Light, nodded and smiled like puppets.

The judge met my gaze.  I would not let them override the 'larger issue' of murder.  "You can't justify murder, can you?" I challenged.  I heard a low rippling of voices around me, but I couldn't actually make out anything said.

That didn't seem to faze Judge Ludwig.  He explained, in a deliberate and precise tone, once more, the 'larger issues'.  "It is unfortunate that there must be such a drastic and undesirable recourse to correct an individual's mistake, but it is preferable to rectify the mistake rather than rend the fabric of society.  Those who go outside the legal union to find personal love hurt not only a mate, but the offspring, therefore all of society.  If couples were allowed to divorce, it would bring pain, as well as changes, to all.  This must, and will be, the prime consideration of the Perfect Council."

I was sweating and cold, for suddenly I found myself in a quandary.  I didn't want to say divorce was a good thing, because I didn't believe it was.  Hadn't I been hurt because of my parents' divorce?  I liked the idea that families stayed together. I liked the idea of a perfect society.  Would Yugo die if I agreed with the Perfect Council?  I couldn't let that happen, no matter what.  But I certainly didn't know what I was going to do about it, either.

I glanced around me. Only one in the crowd of clones looked directly at me, a woman with slightly different eyes and mouth, who clasped a blanket in her hands, and she appeared desperate, on the brink of standing up.  She wet her lips several times, wringing the blanket tighter and tighter.  Yugo chirped, as if he recognized her, wanting her attention, just as I hoped she would speak up.  For I, too, recognized her as the anxious face I had seen hiding in the bushes at Mr. D's house.

"Elizabeth Conner!"

I jerked back to attention before Judge Ludwig.  Yugo yelped, wiggling and straining to look behind me, making it nearly impossible to hold onto him.  I was ready to duck out of here and let these guys settle future issues for themselves.  I wasn't sure if I wanted to change things for the better, but I did know that I wanted to go home and that my mother would understand about Yugo.

Five faces loomed before me, without an ounce of sympathy for either Yugo or me, in spite of what they might say.

"By what defense do you wish to redeem the misbegotten?"

The room full of Monosapiens waited for my answer.  My brains were scrambled and my voice had dried up; I thought any minute my heart would hammer a hole in my chest.    "I'll take Yugo home with me!" I exclaimed.

"No!" thundered Judge Ludwig.  "You will have the duration of the recess to prepare your defense.  Dismissed!"

The gavel cracked.  I sank down on a nearby bench and tried to unravel my disordered thoughts.  Yugo's very life depended on me, and all I could think of was how much I wanted out of this mess.  I rocked Yugo, wanting a response from him, but he struggled to free himself from my arms.  He was looking for that woman.  But if she cared at all about him, why didn't she claim him?  And there may as well have been an ocean between me and Mr. D, for it seemed pretty certain he wasn't going to help us, either.

There wasn't any way out of this building, and besides, where could we go?  Back out there in the wastelands with those horrible creatures that wanted a free meal?  Right now, though, it seemed like inside or out, we were facing some pretty terrible odds trapped here with the Perfect Council sitting in judgment. If I ever had to save my life, it was now.  Strange, I thought suddenly, it's Yugo's life that's at stake, not mine.  But sometimes, it felt we were one and the same.

Yugo plopped into my lap, radiating trust that rankled me, for I was full of despair.  I cupped his face with my hands, and stared at him, trying to fathom his confidence. 

  Then it clicked!  Mr. D had said something was wrong with this society, and that must be the key to this whole thing!  If only I could unlock the secret before it was too late.  If only.  And time was running out.

A Penny in Time Chapter 7: Changin' Addi-Paddi (part 1)

I could not settle down, so I got up and wandered around the house.  Normally, I'm not a worrywart, but I was upset that there wasn't anymore food for Yugo, and worried what little he had had to eat would only make him hungrier when he woke up.  To distract myself, I thumbed through a history book in Mr. D's library and read the two page-history of the Perpetual City while Yugo and Mr. D slept.  Their whispery snores were in sync with one another, which made me laugh out loud as I came back into the room.

I scrunched down on the couch. Yugo curled up beside me, still sound asleep, but sending warm vibes that coated me inside out.  He purred and I read.

Although their civilization was thousands of years old, the history book only recounted the last thousand of years:  from 999 to 2000, the city, the people, the society, everything was exactly like it had been, was and would be.  The rest of the book was pictures, and I had the creepy feeling I could walk outside and find those very landmarks still in existence.  Maybe, I looked over at Mr. D sleeping, the very same people.  I had heard that history repeats itself, but I had never thought about it literally.

One fact snagged my attention, about the race itself.  Mr. D's genus was Mono, of the family sapiens, and reproduction was "homogenesis", which I found in the glossary meant "reproduction in which successive generations are alike".  I folded the book shut, wondering if 'they' were all of like minds, too.  Maybe I stood a chance against a committee that shared genes with Mr. D.  Then again, maybe I didn't, if Mr. D had mutated from the rest of 'them'.  Back and forth, back and forth went my thoughts, always leaving me flooded with doubts.  I wish the whole process had started, therefore, had been decided, and was already over.

I heard rustling outside, then a thump against the door and nearly knocked Yugo off the couch when I jumped to my feet.  Mr. D bolted from his chair and with his massive hand upraised, blocked me from the front door.

"No, childling, stay!"

Any other time, I might have been offended at being ordered like a dog, but Mr. D, obviously unnerved, only meant to protect me.  And Yugo, I think.

"Mr. D, I don't think anyone is trying to break in."  I pointed to the billowing curtains.  "It would have been easier to come through the open window." 

He patted his chest, where I imagined his heart beat.  "I have never witnessed so many strange events."  He appeared thoughtful, looking from the window to the door.  "I've never left that window open before now.  And there's never been any disturbance at my front door."

"Mr. D," I took a step forward, "let's look outside and maybe we can figure out what's going on."
He nodded to me.  "But you must stay here."  He took purposeful strides to the door and whipped it open.

There was a brown package on the welcome mat.  Mr. D stooped and gingerly peeked inside.  "Oh, my!" he gasped, as I bumped into his back.

"What is it?"  I knelt beside Mr. D, nudging his leg to get a closer look, trying to send reassuring vibes to Yugo so he would stop his frightened mewing.

"It's..." Mr. D plucked the bag up and smiled at me, a rather pained smile I thought, "a care package.  For Yugo."

Mr. D stepped over me, back inside.  "Well, Dusty, I dare say that Yugo will have something good to eat, real food for the nuzzling.  I'll fix it and you feed him."

After I dusted off my knees, though I really didn't have to because there wasn't any dirt on my jeans, I followed Mr. D into the kitchen.  Yugo had slipped off the couch and was waddling behind me.  "Look at him, Mr. D!  Isn't he cute?"

Mr. D kept his back to me.  "Who would do such a thing, leave this for a misbegotten?" he mused, fussing over the large nursing bottle.

I hadn't forgotten that Mr. D called Yugo 'nuzzling', which I thought might be an affectionate term.  "Maybe his mother did.  Or someone else who doesn't think it's right for babies to be left out in the desert to die."  I took the bottle from Mr. D, who frowned like my old principal did the time he caught me swearing when I slammed my locker shut on my left hand.

Yugo pawed at my legs until I picked him up.  He snatched at the bottle, giving short 'yurps' as he suckled and I tried to balance both him and the bottle with my hands.  Mr. D marched out of the kitchen, leaving me alone and wondering what I had said to upset him.

Yugo must have sensed my confusion, for he stopped sucking long enough to peer at me intently, and suddenly a lot of unfriendly faces flashed through my head.  Mr. D must be as anxious as I was about this upcoming confrontation.  Maybe he had mixed emotions about which side he was going to be on, or what the outcome would be for Yugo and me.  I had only begun to appreciate how hard it must be for him to accept changes, let alone campaign for them.  But there was someone else out there who wanted to help us, too.

"Mr. D," I walked over to his chair and he looked up at me, "if there are two of you that feel the way I do about Yugo, then maybe there's a lot more.  We might stand a good chance of convincing the Perfect Council yet."

Yugo started hiccupping.  Mr. D's nostril flared and he sighed, impatiently waving his hand at Yugo.  "He needs to be patted on the back."

I flipped Yugo over my shoulder and burped him.  "There's something you're not telling me, Mr. D, something that's troubling you.  And it's not Yugo, is it?"  I put him down on the couch.
Yugo was content to settle between the cushions and go back to sleep.  He seemed to have grown another six inches since I had fed him.  Yugo gave back to me the love I felt for him as I scratched his head and I was reluctant to let go of the good feelings that flowed between us.  But I had to get some things clear.  I went over and sat on a footstool in front of Mr. D and waited for him to speak.
He cleared his throat a couple of times.  "You're right, Dusty.  Something is wrong, very wrong."  He startled me by reaching over and touching my cheek lightly, then continued.  "You have read," he gestured to the closed history book on the arm of the couch, "about our history.  Was it not extraordinary?"

The way he said it, gave me the impression he meant it in a negative way.  "Yeah," I replied, "I thought it was a bit odd."

"In what way?" he asked kindly, leaning closer to me.

"Two pages about a perfect society.  I mean, I guess I thought history told about wars, conflicts, changes, you know, all that happens over years and years.  Like evolution."

"Exactly."  He smacked his hands and smiled like I had answered the winning quiz question.

"Exactly what?" I retorted, baffled by his smug expression.

"Our recorded history begins with the perfected society."  He massaged his knees.  "From the time of our recorded history, there are no wars, no unresolved conflicts amongst us.  That is why we can exist in the Perpetual City in harmony, a totally homogeneous society.  There is no poverty here, for here everything is in balance with our resources.  Even our arts and sciences have reached the state of perfection, where all needs are satisfied, for each and everyone of us.  Everyone is alike, and there is always agreement.  Every action is carefully considered, every consideration balanced.  Our marriage contracts are forever and each couple rears two offspring until the age of twenty-one, one quarter of a life span.  We are a self-perpetuating society."

He paused and took a breath.  I let all this information sink in, trying to pinpoint what it was that disturbed me.  After all, it sounded just fine to me.  "Families stay together, right?"

"Yes."  Mr. D locked eyes with me.

"I don't see the problem."  I held his gaze for a long minute.

"Couples partner for a lifetime; there is no such thing as separation.  Each misbegotten comes from an unlawful union, and threatens the balance.  Ergo, there cannot be misbegottens."

Mr. D stroked his chin, and I was hypnotized by the long, silken strands undulating along his arm.  I knew his reasoning was wrong.  "What about love?" I blurted out, startling both of us.

"There are many forms of love, Dusty," he answered quietly, and I detected a note of sadness, too.  "The good of all is the highest form of love, is it not?"

But before I could answer him, there came a resounding knock on the door.  This time Mr. D seemed neither surprised nor unprepared as he opened the door.

"It's a summons for us to go to the courthouse immediately."

A Penny in Time Chapter 6: R-E-S-P-E-C-T (Part 2)

"Well," he sighed, "perhaps we may have to come to a compromise.  Let me propose this:  I shall call you Dusty, and you may call me," he paused and squinted, but I think beneath the pained expression might have been a glint of humor, "Mr. D only," and he emphasized it again, "only when we are by ourselves.  It is especially important for you to remember this when we come before the Perfect Council.  Do we have an agreement?"

"Sure," I stuck my hand out and we shook on it.  "Now, we'd better get some food for Yugo. He's awfully hungry."

Mr. D bristled.  "I cannot.  We must wait for the Perfect Decision."

"Mr. D," I felt an upsurge of anger that swept away all the cobwebs from my head, "Yugo's fate will be decided whether or not he has a full stomach.  I wouldn't let you go hungry.  You talk about 'the way things are, the way things must be', but have you no sense of what is right or wrong?"

Yugo really perked up while I made my speech and punctuated my sentences with sharp squeals.  Mr. D appeared rather stunned, like he had been frozen for a couple of centuries in the same spot.  He must have considered what I said, because his face thawed into a smile.

"I believe there might be something that the misbegotten could ingest.  Come with me to my house."
I didn't see that we had much choice, whether or not to go to Mr. D's house or back to the desert.  This is the sort of situation you never want to try to explain to your parents, how sometimes you know you're not supposed to do something, but you don't have much of a choice, or if you have, you don't know it.

I think Yugo must have been telling me that it was all right, because I got a sense of being in the right place at the right time.  Although I thought it pretty strange that I was here, thinking about right time and place.  Some of our immediate problems were taken care of, like we were inside the city, not out, so we were some place, not lost, and we at least had the promise of being fed and sheltered.  I would really rather be at home, where I know it would be no problem taking care of Yugo or myself, for that matter.  If I want unreasonable, I have my Dad.

We were the only ones walking along the quiet, empty streets.  Rows of houses bordered the sidewalks, spaced like a perfectly planted garden of lettuce heads all in a row.  "Where are all the others, Mr. D?"

"Oh, childling," he chuckled, "everyone has a place to be and is there.  There is no reason for anyone to be about at this time."

"Is it day or night, Mr. D?"  Yugo was asleep again and I could swear he had grown in just the short time we had been here.

"It is," he answered, then added, probably because I looked like I felt, annoyed, "one and the same, here.  There is no change of season, either."

"I see."  Inside, I recoiled at the thought of sameness, the color of gray.  Yugo stirred but did not awaken.

We walked on, up one, then down another sidewalk, like we were in a brightly lit maze winding through the city, until we stopped in front of one drab, medium-sized house that looked exactly like the other beside it, with one tree per patch of brownish front lawn.

"How do you know which house is yours, Mr. D?"  I asked, not even trying to disguise my disgust.
"Why, I've always lived here!  Third house from the last, the right side of the street.  Simple."  He motioned me to enter, and before the door shut behind us, I got a quick look at the etched nameplate on the door, "Mr. dIAmand" in small, block letters.

"Oh, boy," I looked around, not the least surprised that the living room had an easy chair, one couch, a coffee table, with no magazines or clutter anywhere, and each visible room had the same off-white walls with light green fabric curtains pulled neatly in two halves from the windows.  "Nice place you've got here, Mr. D."  I plopped down on the couch and let Yugo burrow beside me.

"Yes, well, thank you.  I shall be back momentarily with food for Yugo.  If you'll excuse me."

"Sure, and thanks!" I called after him as he hurried to the kitchen.  Mr. D didn't seem all that stuffy now that we were here at his house, almost like he was happy to have us staying with him.  Maybe he had really wanted to do the right thing and take care of Yugo, but didn't want, or couldn't, put himself in the position to be responsible for that kind of decision.  I had no idea what it was going to be like before the Perfect Council, but I made up my mind I wasn't going to let it scare me, or make me do what I knew wasn't right.  Of course, I didn't like to think too much about what 'they' could make me do; I had some ugly images of blood, gore and torture.  But surely, this space and place was civilized, or so I hoped.  Then I looked down at Yugo, softly sleeping against my leg, and questioned how these beings could throw away their own babies and not care for them.  Maybe 'they' wouldn't care if I was a kid or not, no rules need apply here about what's fair or decent or right.  I only prayed that I knew what I was doing when it came time to stand up and face the Perfect Council.  I was sure that Mr. D wouldn't or couldn't offer much more assistance, and since Yugo was the problem, he sure couldn't do much in the way of helping.

Mr. D came back into the living room with a huge glass of thick, chalky stuff that smelled a lot like my old tennis shoes.  "I'm sorry to say that's all I have for him."

Maybe to change the subject quickly, he blurted,  "I have been informed that soon we will go before the Perfect Council, Eliz...Dusty."  He sat down in the easy chair, clasping his hands together and shaking his fur to lay smooth.  "They have agreed to meet in six hours."

"Why so long, why can't we get it over with sooner?"  I had difficulty getting the milkshake fast enough into Yugo's demanding mouth.  He slurped and gurgled while I tried not to slop any of it onto the couch, let alone worry about what was getting on me.  I was going to look real nice after this feeding, just perfect enough to go before the Council.

"Oh, no sooner!  Everyone will want to attend and hear the outcome.  It has become a major issue, and we will be very anxious to know the decision concerning the misbegottens.  It will affect us all, one way or the other."  For a moment, Mr. D lost his smile and I had a flash of misgiving.  "This has created a great deal of talk amongst us, you bringing the misbe...Yugo, here inside the city.  I don't think it will be an easy decision for the Council.  No," he stood and paced between the dining room and living room, "I don't think this is going to be easy for any of us.  Your being here has disrupted us already; we cannot be the same as we were before you came.  But I don't know," he stopped in front of me, clearly distressed, "if this is for the better or not!"

"Changes are always hard, even if they're good for you," I replied, wiping the last glob of liquid from Yugo's chin.  "But isn't that life?  Don't we grow and change all the time?"  I peered up at Mr. D.  "Or do you like living the life of a robot?"

"Oh, childling," he huffed, straightening to his full impressive height, "there's nothing wrong with life being predictable."

I looked pointedly from Yugo to Mr. D.  "Something's wrong with this society, something's really wrong.  And I bet there are some of you that aren't real happy with the way things are."

"Well," he stammered, "I suppose you always have malcontents, in any society.  But not enough to influence the whole network."

"If you're so happy with the way things are, then why did you take us in?"  I felt I was ice skating across the Atlantic, but if I couldn't make Mr. D see my point of view, I knew I was in for some real trouble up ahead.

 He drummed his fingers on the fireplace mantel, answering in a low voice,  "Because, Dusty, you're right.  Something is wrong, terribly wrong with our society.  And I hope," his head turned ever so slowly, his eyes seeking mine in a hard stare, "you can effect changes.  You're the only one that can."
There seemed nothing more to say and Mr. D sat down again.  I wondered just how I was going to convince 'them'.  I held onto the thin thread of hope that if I could change Mr. D's mind, I could change the Perfect Council.  I had to: it was so obviously the right thing to do that I knew I had no choice.  I hoped that if I never got back home, my Mom would somehow know what I had done and be proud of me.

Yugo stretched and purred, flopping into my hands like a cat does, totally relaxed and contented.  Without a worry.  Mr. D reclined in his chair, with his head thrown back and eyes shut, probably asleep, too.  I was wide awake, along with all my concerns.  I felt like we had used up some brownie points, and I sure hoped we hadn't emptied the cookie jar just yet.  Because, I thought as I tucked Yugo close against my leg while he slept easy, what we needed was another minor miracle.

A Penny in Time Chapter 5: Soul Surfing (part 1)

I awoke with a jolt, squarely on my butt, not knowing where I was or if I were dreaming. Or what. The last thing I remembered was holding Sparky and a fistful of pennies and falling into a black hole. I examined my hands, empty, except for little bits of soft dirt, but no scratches. Still had the band-aid on my right thumb. My heart hammered like it might burst and I was panting like a dog. I guess I had to admit I was scared, because this place was like nothing I had ever seen. I listened and heard the stillness of nothing.

And here I was, in the middle of nowhere. Everything around me was a shade of gray: the sky was ashen, like the aftermath pictures I had seen of Mt. St. Helens; the dirt wasn't brown but ashy-colored and fine, and felt like old newspaper crumbling in my hands; and as far as I could see, a fog covered the ground. Even the bushes were drab and scraggly. No trees, but way off I could make out the outline of mountains.

I got up, and where I had sat were the five pennies. I picked each one up and pocketed them, wiping my hands clean on my jeans. I didn't know where I was or where I should be, or where I was going to go, but I thought I'd better start walking. I expected to stumble over headstones, for this had to be some kind of cemetery, for sure. But there was nothing but vast stretches of nothing. Maybe I was in the 'Twilight Zone'.

The mist swirled and curled around my legs, sweeping over my arms, but I felt neither cold nor damp like fog can make you feel. I felt nothing. I concentrated on counting my heartbeats. At least I'm alive, or I think I am.

I thought I'd better take my bearings, try to memorize my route. I turned around; behind me I saw the mist cover the path I had been walking. In front of me, maybe two or three feet ahead, there was a scrawny bush. It moved. Or did I just imagine it?

Well, I had to find out. When I approached the bush, the movement stopped. My skin crawled, like tiny ants moved up my arms and across my neck. Words froze in my throat, and the only noise that I made was sort of a stuttering hum. The bush chattered and I jumped back. I saw two tiny eyes peering at me, two specks of red lights in a furry face. I knelt down, close but not close enough to touch the creature. It hummed back the same sound I had made.

"It's okay, I won't hurt you," I whispered, wondering if it would hurt me. "Come on, come out. I won't hurt you," I repeated louder, offering my hand like you would for a dog to sniff. It burrowed down into the dirt, all but covered itself, except for those eerie little eyes.

It stayed beneath the bush, hidden by the crackling twigs for a long time. I couldn't leave it there, even though I told myself that I should be worried about myself. I felt incredibly lonely, like if I walked away from this creature, I'd be even more lost. Finally, it wiggled, shaking off the dirt and snapping off pieces of the brush as it ventured forth to almost-touching distance of my hand. It was small and cute like a baby koala bear! I waited, barely breathing, for it to come nearer. When it nuzzled my hand, I slowly brought my other hand over and started stroking its downy fur. "See," I murmured, "I said I wouldn't hurt you."

It answered me with a hum, the same soft monotone of my voice. "You like that, don't you?" I kept petting it and it kept humming, mimicking the sound of my voice.

"Poor, little thing," I scratched its delicate, pointed ear, and took a good look at it. It had a furry body with a face and hands more human-like than animal. "Are you lost, too?" I asked.

It whimpered, sounding just like a baby tired after crying too long. "Come on, then, I'll pick you up and we'll look for your parents." I scooped it up and it snuggled into my arms while I continued stroking it from its head down the middle of its back. It had no tail, but feet with thick pads and five toes. Surely, its mother and father were trying to find it. But where to look? Where to begin? Now, both of us together were in the middle of nowhere.

I don't know how or why, but I got the impression that it didn't have anyone who cared for it. The thought came so suddenly and so surely that I knew it was true. I felt a searing pain inside me, of loss and want and not knowing the why of it. "It's okay," I crooned, "I'll figure something out pretty soon."

I felt a rush of warmth as I looked down at this little creature in my arms, unsure whether the feeling was mine, or it gave the feeling to me. "Whatever," I answered myself out loud, "I guess we share and share alike."

"Do you have a name?" I held the creature at arm's length and stared into its eyes.

"You go!" ripped every thought from my mind, making me gasp in shock and pain.

My head throbbed and I felt like crying. I pressed the creature closer to my chest and waited for the flood of feelings to subside. For a few quiet moments, I tried to come up with a logical explanation for what was happening. As if anything here made sense! But if, and I thought it pretty far-fetched, if we were sharing thoughts, it could be that "You go!" was the only thing it had heard before I had spoken to it. At least it made some sense and gave me the feeling that I was right.

"Well, let's see." I stroked it, using every ounce of good feeling I had to impart as a means of comfort as I ran through a list of names, but none suited it. "Okay, how about Yugo?" I suggested in my nicest, softest voice. "Maybe we can change the bad feeling into something good, what do you say?"

The tangled mess of feelings in my gut unraveled and I relaxed. "Good, then Yugo, we've got one problem solved!" Which made me feel wonderful, except we were still at the same spot we were five minutes ago.

Yugo yelped. I felt his fear like a bolt of lightning through me. I don't know if I heard it, sensed it or saw it, but I do know I was running as fast as I could. Then in a fast glance back I saw a lot of mean something after us. I bolted, putting distance between us and some nasty fangs hot on my heels.

I clutched Yugo tight to my chest and dashed for the mountains, making out a possible hiding place. I ran, gasping and with a stitch in my side. It seemed like a hundred miles later I wedged us behind a big boulder. Whatever that thing was, big, four-footed and ugly as a rabid dog, snarling and pacing around the rock, it wanted us, but couldn't get at us. I told myself that I should be really afraid, but I wasn't. We could wait it out, and it would go away soon. It did.

"Yugo, that was close," I peered out, inspecting our surroundings. "Whatever is that thing?"

‘Not good!’ Punctuated my thoughts.

"Not good," I repeated aloud. Yeah, I guess it wasn't good. "Where do we go from here?"

But I got no answer on that one. Yugo was sound asleep. Me, I was too hyper to sleep, yet exhausted, too. So I sat on top of the flat part of the boulder and rocked Yugo while I looked over the horizon. I really had become attached to this little guy, like he was a part of myself that I understood on a gut level. He wasn't the least bit heavy or hard to carry. I thought how strange, like my arms should be tired by now. But hardly anything made sense here on this forsaken planet without moon, or stars, or for that matter, day or night. I recapped what I did know, very little at that: I had Yugo, who had me, and we had between us, a sharing. But practically, we had nothing. No food, water, or shelter. I didn't feel cold, hot or hungry, just all these crazy, mixed-up emotions.

Yugo must have had parents and a home at one point in his life, but he wasn't saying if he remembered. Maybe it was best he didn't remember, for the pain might be unbearable. Didn't I know how it felt when someone you loved suddenly stopped caring for you?

"Are you awake, little guy?" He stretched, tensed and relaxed, then nodded off again. "It's not going to be easy for me to find some place for us to go, unless you can help." But he didn't seem to hear, or least he didn't respond.

Where do you go when you don't know where you are?

I did know I had left nothing behind me, and as far as I could see, there was nothing to the right or left of us, except a huge mountain. I had to scale the steep slope and look around. What would I do with Yugo? I had to have my hands free. Then it hit me! Of course, I could wrap Yugo in my scarf and use my scarf as a carrier.

I woke Yugo when I put him down beside me. "It's okay," I answered his whine, "I'll show you what I have in mind." I unwound the scarf, scooped him up and gently placed him down on it, criss-crossing the ends. "Look, I’ll carry you while I climb over these rocks to get to the top and see if there is a place for us to go." I hugged him close as I could without smothering him and tied the ends.

I could tell Yugo didn't much like my idea, but he did understand we didn't have much of a choice. I had hoped he would remember something useful and relay it, but he didn't and I began the long, hard climb over the dark side of the mountain towards the top with Yugo mewing all the way.

"Listen! This is no picnic for me," I huffed and puffed, pulling us over another rock. The closer I got to the top, the further it seemed to be. We were getting nowhere. Finally, I had to stop and sit down to rethink a new plan.

"Is there no light?" I asked Yugo once I had unstrapped him and stuffed my scarf into my pants pocket.

A Penny in Time Chapter 4: I Do, Again (Part 2)

I didn't bother answering, for I'm sure he wouldn't have heard me anyway.  He carried one box into the house, all the way to my bedroom where I sat down at my desk and studiously began to ignore him.  He finally left, but I don't know how long he stayed in the living room talking with my Mom.
Mom came to my door and stood until I looked over at her.  "What happened, Dusty?"

"He let Sylvia paint my bed, dresser and replace all my stuff with cute pictures of kittens and calendars of kids with big eyes."  I took a pair of scissors and cut geometric shapes out of some construction paper.  "He doesn't listen to me, anymore.  It's like he's got this image of me and when I don't fit into his scenario, he gets mad at me, because I won't change.  He knows I don't like him calling me Princess or Elizabeth, but he does it anyway; so does Sylvia.  It's like when he met her, his brain went to mush and he forgot who I am, or got me confused with someone else I haven't met.  I don't want to be around him anymore, not at all.  He's not my father," I threw down the scissors and crumpled the paper into a big ball.  "He's an alien creature using my father's body.  He's not making any sense to me anymore.  I don't ever want to see him again!"

I was too mad to cry, too mad to do anything but sit and stare at the wall with my Star Trek™ calendar on it.  I was grateful my Mom left me alone for the rest of the evening, because I didn't want talk about it anymore.  What could she possibly understand about me and Dad?  She hadn't lost her father like I had my Dad.  She'd had the "perfect" childhood, according to Nana and Grandpa.  She and Nana took cooking classes together, and she and Grandpa went fishing, every opening day since Mom was five.  I know she still missed her Dad, she talks a lot about the fun times she had with him and how much she loved him and he loved her, sometimes choking on tears, but she lost Grandpa when he was old.  What did she know about not having a real, full-time Dad?  I listened to some tapes, and read for quite awhile before I fell asleep with all my clothes on.  I even forgot to brush my teeth.

The next day, Dad came over to the house.  "Dusty, can we talk about this?"  He sat down on the couch and waited for me to answer him.

"I talk but you don't hear me."  I twisted the hem of my shirt into a wad.  "Why did you let Sylvia paint my bedroom set, when we were going to do that together?  That's not my style, that fluffy stuff, and you know it.  Don't you?"

There was a long, long moment of silence.  I thought maybe he wasn't going to say anything.
"I, I...." he stammered, "I thought you'd outgrown all that other stuff, that you were more interested in being a young lady than a tomboy.  After all, you're fifteen, not eleven."

"That's what I mean, Dad.  You haven't heard me at all.  I'm me, the way I am.  You're not the same father that I had a year ago.  Have you forgotten I don't, and have never, liked pink?"
"Oh, honey, can't you see that Sylvia is trying to please you?  She worked so hard and you hurt her feelings when you left like that, not even a thank you."

"Dad!" I shouted, "I don't like pink!  And I want everyone to call me Dusty, until I'm ninety-nine and a half!"  My hands were shaking.  "And you had no right to lie to me about Victoria!  Why don't you just live your life and let me live mine, okay?"

"No, I'm not going to go away.  And you can't wish me away.  I admit I was a total jerk about Victoria, but I didn't know how to say I was.  Or to tell you I was sorry I disappointed you."  He came over to me and hugged me.  "Come on, spend the night with us.  Sylvia has a great dinner planned for us and we can get a DVD for later."

It was his way of apologizing, and he's the guy that's never wrong.  I felt bullied by two different feelings.  I didn't want to give in, but I didn't like being mad at him, either.  "Okay, but I'll bring my sleeping bag and sleep on the floor." I threw my sleeping bag into the trunk and watched it mushroom open as the bungee cord popped off.

He was irritated, but conceded.  "Maybe you'll like your room once you get used to it." He pulled into his parking slot, got out of the car and slammed the door.

I hugged the billowing sleeping bag close to my chest as I trailed behind him into the condo. Get used to it? I thought looking in the room.  Never.

But we all tried hard to be cheerful and I did have a good time, somewhat.  Sylvia didn't feel well, so we had take-out pizza.  She held my Dad's hand the whole time we watched "Star Trek V" and broke out in tears all the way through it, which annoyed me to no end.  It was only a movie, and why get so worked up when you know the good guys are going to make everything all right in the end?  Sylvia was just too sentimental to be real.

Which maybe explained why she was sick in bed with the flu the next weekend.  I called Slinky up and asked her to a movie, but she had a date with a new guy. Dean and Fran, and even Annie were doing volunteer community cleanup.  Mom offered to take me bowling, but that didn't appeal to me.
"How about," Mom sat on my bed, while I sat at my desk, sketching a drawing of the 'Enterprise', "doing a 'Star Trek' mural on this wall?"  She pointed to the wall which had some faded posters I had meant to take down anyway.  She got up and looked over my shoulder.  "You could draw the 'Enterprise' and I'll superimpose faces of the crew, with a background of the galaxy.  What do you say?"

"All right!"  I could see it so clearly, almost as if the wall were all ready done.  I pointed to the spot where the galaxy would go.  "The Sombrero galaxy is classified as "Sa", which means it's a galaxy with a large, central bulge, with spiral arms winding around its outside.  That's how it got the name.  It's really does look like a gigantic hat!"  Mom nodded, looking excited, too.  I grabbed her and gave her a big hug.  "You sure you have the time?"  I asked, but prayed that I hadn't reminded her of something else she should be doing instead.

"I have the time, Dusty.  Let's get to work."

She and I worked all day Saturday afternoon, until six that night.  It wasn't as easy as I thought it would be, as I had to keep redrawing the starship to proportion on the wall.  It seemed Mom looked at a picture from the 'Star Trek' calendar, and reproduced the faces of Captain Picard's, Riker's, Data's and Counselor Troi's faces without any effort.

"I can't get it right!" I wailed, throwing down the sketching pencil I had been using.  "It's so easy for you!"

Mom stopped a moment and grinned.  "I've been doing this a lot longer than you have.  And you'll get it," she stood back and examined the wall.  "I'd say you almost have it.  We'll finish tomorrow."
Which we did after our pancake brunch.  The mural was the neatest thing I'd ever seen, and to think I did a fair share of the work!  Sitting in my room made it seem like I was in the center of the starship, and I could imagine voyaging across the Sombrero galaxy to unknown worlds of adventure.

At three o'clock on Sunday, Dad called.

"Hi, babe!  I have to tell you something, something real important."

He had that nervous pitch to his voice, which meant I wasn't going to like what he had to say.  "I'm listening."

He took a big breath, then plunged in.  "We've wanted to tell you for a couple of weeks, but the right time never seemed to come up.  I'll just say it straight.  Sylvia's going to have a little baby girl."

The puzzle pieces fell into place!  Sylvia's "flu"--and that's why she had fixed up my room the way she wanted it to look--for her kid!  "I hope the three of you are happy!" I snarled.

"Don't get nasty, young lady.  We're all going to have a major adjustment and I'm counting on you to be mature about this."

The pocket full of lies and hurt burst, and I was through with stuffing it all in.  "You've got your new life, why don't you just leave me alone?" I shouted, dropping the phone.

I stormed out of the house.  I jogged up the street, then fast-walked until I could breathe without hiccupping.  Two hours and ten minutes later, I came home.  When I opened the front door, Mom looked up from her book.

"How are you?"  She closed the book on her finger, and waited for my reply.

"I'm okay, I guess."

"Your father dropped by and left you a note.  I put it on your desk."

"I saw his car."

"We had a long talk.  About you."  She slipped a book marker in between pages and set the book on the coffee table.  "Come sit a moment and hear me out."

Geez, this was strange, like I was her guest invited for afternoon tea.  She didn't say a thing about me flying out of the house and staying gone, although I had sat across the street in the park for the last forty-five minutes.  I suppose she could have seen me if she'd looked out the window.

I expected a lecture, and I guess I should have felt gratified that I was going to get one.

"It must seem like your father only considers his viewpoint, that the changes our divorce put you through didn't hurt.  Am I right?"

I shrugged, but the words had hit a sore spot right in the middle of my heart.  "Yeah."

I didn't want to change things anymore, not for the better or back to the way they were.  I just wanted my life free of my Dad and Sylvia.  "I don't care if I ever see Dad again.  I don't like him."  I took a tissue and shredded it, then balled it up.  "He doesn't care what I want, and how many times do I have say I don't like the color pink? I doubt he thought about me at all, because pink is for babies, right?  Besides, he'll get along fine with another kid, won't he?  And I'm not going to babysit for them.  Ever." 

Mom chuckled!  "I don't know that I blame you."  I focused on her moving lips.  "He wants you to like Sylvia, so he wants you to be like him, or at least agree with him."  She left a pause, working her tongue across her lower lip.  "Loving your father is not the same as liking him; and liking him is not the same as getting along with him, is it?"

"No," I blurted, willing to talk things out with her.

"Dusty, there's something I'm going to tell you about my father that made me face some of the very feelings you're having now."  She stopped for a moment and I could see by the frown lines between her eyes that she was having a hard time choosing the right words.  "Like loving your father and thinking he would always be there for you, then he isn't.  Saying he'll do something special with you, then leaving you high and dry, making excuses for all the many broken promises."  She laughed, like you do when you feel like crying.

"Daddy had a gambling problem."  Mom looked at me and I saw her lip tremble.  "He lost a lot of money at the race track.  A lot of money."  She swept the air with her hands, as if erasing everything in front of her.  "There was no money for my senior prom dress, no promised car, no college tuition."  She looked off into the distance, maybe seeing something beyond the window that no one else could.
"I hated him so much for taking everything away from me, for his selfishness and weakness.  I had to work two jobs to finish college and even though my mother went back to nursing, I helped pay some of the bills.  I couldn't understand why she stayed with him.  But she stayed with him through the bad years and the good years after he recovered in therapy."

Her voice was soft but urgent.  "It took me a long time, Dusty, a long time to forgive him."

Mom folded her legs beneath her and sat back.  "It also took me a long time to understand my mother's advice:  you have to accept the one you love, in spite of the bad, because of the good.  It wasn't until after you were born that my father and I talked things out.  Nothing happened overnight, either.  Things got better day by day, in little ways."  She leaned forward and although I sat too far away, I felt like she had hugged me.

It would have been nice if I could have gone over and comforted her with a hug, but I felt cast in lead on the outside, and a bag of pieces inside, trying to sort out everything.  Boy, Grandpa really must have changed.  He always had some little surprise, or something that made us laugh when he came to visit.

Maybe Mom did understand how I felt, but I still didn't see how I could work it out with my Dad.  "Dad and I are not like we used to be, you know?  What am I supposed to do if I can't like the color pink?"

"I don't know, Dusty," Mom whispered.  "What color is love?"

I stood up, choking back my tears, grateful she understood so much, but feeling lost that she didn't have any answers either.  "I don't know and I don't think you or Dad know, either."

She picked up her book and settled back into her easy chair.  "Maybe you'll find the answer and tell us."  She began reading as I went back to my room and sat down at my desk, staring at my newly painted mural.

I wish I could be like Data, logical without emotions making everything so confusing.

I cuddled my raggedy stuffed bear, Sparky as I looked at the envelope my Dad had propped against an old notebook.  I batted the envelope, upsetting the notebook which burped papers all over.  I got a paper cut across my thumb that bled and bled, until I put a bandage on it.  After awhile, I fished out the envelope from the mess of papers and opened it.

Out fell five pennies with his note:  "Dusty, let's talk.  I'll try to make sense out of things."

It was just like my Dad to use a stupid pun.  I scooped up the pennies and Sparky, pressing my face into his soft belly.  A fierce and terrible pain sucked the breath from me.  There was a huge, black hole inside of me.  I was falling, falling into an abyss. Away, away, down down, down.

A Penny in Time Chapter 4: I Do, Again (Part 1)

Slinky went with me and Sylvia the day we were to try on dresses.  She got along just fine with Sylvia.  Susan and Sylvia could sit in a corner and talk about bridesmaids' dresses and perfect shoes for the next hundred years.

I finally screwed up enough courage to come clean.  "Sylvia, I'm not going to be a flower girl in your wedding."  Her eyes bugged.  "I'm just too old to be flinging flowers around."

"Oh, of course, Elizabeth.  But I still want you to be in the wedding, as my bridesmaid."  She smiled like it was the brightest idea she'd ever had, and what's worse, Slinky nodded in agreement.

I shook my head.  "No, really.  I don't want to trip or anything.  I hate to be the one to spoil your big day."  I gave her a lame smile back, thinking how much she spoiled my life.

"I'll serve punch with Slinky, okay?  And you won't have to get me a special dress, or anything."
My Dad looked disgusted and didn't say much to me the rest of the day.  I should have pointed out to him how I was saving him the expense of the powder-blue satin and velvet dress that was not worth it for little ole me, who wouldn't be caught dead in a dress like that, even at her own funeral.

I considered wearing plaid sneakers with my plain, sleeveless blue dress. Leaning against the doorjamb, arms folded across her chest, Mom eyed me critically.

“Hey, it’s a fashion statement,” I flung my arms wide and twirled. “And comfortable. I’ll be standing awhile.” I grabbed my scarf and with dramatic flourish draped it around my neck.

“The trouble with ‘statements’ made in anger,” Mom straightened and wagged a finger, “is that you live to regret them. Chose your battles wisely.”

“Whoa, what about individuality, Mom-the-artist?” I mimicked her stance with my hands on my hips.
“I guess it is a matter of definition. Are you an individual or a just a rebellious teen? One is taken seriously, the other is not.” She turned around and left me there to think about it.

It was a beautiful June day for the wedding. I wore the blue dress with the scarf, but chose comfortable white ballerina shoes. I borrowed my mother’s diamond stud earrings, which were a little larger than the diamond in my newly pierced nose. My Dad’s parents picked me up two hours before the ceremony and clearly avoided looking closely at the center of my face the entire way over to the church.

I felt queasy during the ceremony, and concentrated on not throwing up, parked in the front pew with my grandparents.  The bride came down the aisle, a white-laced illusion.  The groom appeared by her side.  And they recited their vows.

How can they take vows to love, honor and cherish one another through sickness and health, till death do them part?  Surely it must have crossed Sylvia's mind that my Dad had said those vows once before.  I wondered if Mom really wished Dad all the happiness in the world, or if she were sitting at home feeling as rotten as I was.

I stood beside Slinky at the refreshment table, and helped pass out the three-hundred plates with slices of white cake with raspberry filling and butter cream frosting that I didn't even taste.  The reception line went on forever, with the band playing dippy love songs that couples slow-danced to.  Every chance he got, my Dad introduced me as “Elizabeth, my daughter,” in one breath.  Finally, someone, I think it was the matron of honor, announced the bride and groom would leave for their honeymoon after the last dance.

Slinky waved frantically at me.  "Your Dad's looking for you.  He wants to dance with you."
"I have to go to the bathroom.  Too much punch."  I hurried out of the room.  I didn't feel like dancing with someone who couldn't remember my name.  I joined my grandparents outside as the crowd threw rice at the departing newlyweds.

     All I wanted to do was go home and watch my favorite TV program with my Mom.  I mean, if spending the evening with my Mom sounded like a good idea, then you know I must have been a sorry space cadet.

"Hey, Princess," my Dad's voice carried miles, as he beckoned me after shutting the door of the black limousine on Sylvia's veil.  "When we get back from Hawaii you come spend the weekend with us, okay?"

Grandma gave me a little nudge.  "Go over and kiss him good-bye, real fast, like a bunny."
I wasn't going to run across the lawn in new shoes that hurt my feet and end up skidding half-way to Oregon just to give my Dad a kiss good-bye.  I suppose I could have hopped like a bunny and made a real spectacle of myself, but then someone would have told my Mom and she would have lectured me for an hour about it.

Instead, I waved.  "Bye, Dad.  Have a nice time," although by the look on his face I don't think he bought my sincerity, which made me feel kind of bad all of a sudden.  So I walked over and gave him a big kiss on the cheek.  "Really, Dad, have a good time." And, I thought, do some soul-surfing while you’re at it.

He hugged me for a long time.  "All of us will go next time, okay?"

I said nothing.  He and Sylvia could go on a trip every year or twice a month, but I didn't want to be with them.  Maybe they deserved each other, I didn't really care.  Things were never going to be the same with me and my Dad, and I guess I'd have to get used to that, but I didn't have to like it.  I wasn't going to let him go without a little hurt of his own.

"Hey, Dad," he turned, still smiling at me as I spoke, "please don't call me 'Princess', okay?"

He looked stunned a moment, then his smile returned.  "All right.  I'll see you in a couple of weeks, okay?"

I watched until they were out of sight.  I waited forever for my grandparents to say their farewells so that we could leave.  Slinky immediately started babbling when she got into the car, comparing notes with my grandmother.  I leaned my head back and shut my eyes, while Slinky rattled on and on about the lovely wedding.

It seemed a small bit of eternity with all the farewells.  I heaved a sigh of relief when I made it to my bedroom, and changed into my jeans and sweater.  The house was quiet and my Mom was in the back bedroom working on an art project for her class next Friday.  This, I decided, is how things should be, and settled down with a cold glass of milk before the television.  The only thing that spoiled it was a rerun of "Star Trek, the Next Generation" that I had already seen, but no matter, I liked it anyway.
Reruns were a lot better than being with Dad and Sylvia.  It was like we were aliens that didn't speak the same language.  I miss the way my life used to be, when Mom and Dad were together.  I miss the old Slinky that wasn't involved up to her shaved armpits with boys, clothes and make-up.  Frank got a job at McDonald's™ and I don't see him much, either.  I wish I could change everything back again, make it right, and everyone would be happy.  Only it seems everyone is happy, except for me.

Summer was the season for changes for me.  My body "blossomed" as Nana and Mom kept saying; shopping took on a whole new twist as I had to have bras, an electric shaver, and all sorts of things to accommodate Mother Nature.  I didn't have that much time for Dad, as I kept pretty busy with babysitting jobs every weekend and three weeks in August, yard work with Dean and Fran, earning plenty of money for new clothes.  I took my new position as Class Treasurer seriously and looked forward in the fall to starting tenth grade with the honors' class.  I was beginning to feel more responsible for my own life, like I could make decisions for myself and think through problems on my own.  

Dad didn’t seem to notice the changes.  We got along all right, like people do when they see each other once in a while, chatting about everyday stuff.  It had been a month or more since I'd spent a weekend with them at their condo, and when Dad asked me to stay over, I said I would.  I brought my star stencil kit and intended to ask him to help me do the ceiling.  I was stunned when I walked into my bedroom and saw what Sylvia had done to it.

My unstained bed and dresser were white with ugly, little gold scrolls here and there.  White curtains outlined the windows and the bedspread was the most hideous pink, ruffled thing with teeny red roses that I had ever seen.  The little porcelain unicorn sat smugly in the middle of the dresser.  I thought I'd throw up right then and there!  All my posters, banners and pictures were stacked neatly in two boxes.  The Disneyland banner I had brought to put up wilted in my grip as I blinked and blinked, hoping this ugly scene right out of Grimm's fairy tale would disappear.

But it didn't.  Dad draped his arm around my shoulder.  "What do you think?  Fit for a Princess, huh?"  His eyes twinkled and he grinned.  "Sylvia worked for three days to get it ready for you.  Like it?"

"Oh, Dad!" I slapped my forehead and acted like I had a sudden, horrible thought.  "I forgot I have to babysit tonight!  Could you take me home right now?"

"Sure, I'll get my keys."  He looked at me strangely, not moving.

"Could you take the other box, Dad?  There's no sense in leaving this crap here for anyone to trip over."  I picked up the larger box and made for the front door.  "Hope I didn't mess up your dinner, Sylvia."

"That's okay, honey, we'll do something special next weekend.  Maybe we can shop in the morning and catch a movie in the afternoon.  All right?"

"Sounds just great," I said, and I knew the sarcasm was unmistakable, even without the dirty look my Dad gave me.

"What's wrong with you, Elizabeth Conner?" he growled as we stood by the car.  "You're acting like an obnoxious child!"

"I'm sorry!  I guess I could have called Mom to come get me."  I straightened out the Disneyland banner on top of the star stencil box before Dad slammed the trunk shut and squashed himself down into the driver's seat.

"I don't care about that!"  He half-turned, his hand clutching the steering wheel and shaking the keys at me.  "You're not the sweet little girl that you used to be." 

"You're right, I'm not!"  I was steamed, too.  "You're not like the father you used to be, either!"
"Well, I haven't changed, Elizabeth."  He jammed the key into the ignition.  "I don't want anymore of this attitude problem, do you understand?"

A Penny in Time Chapter 3: True Lies

I shoved two suitcases into the trunk of Dad's BMW Saturday morning, excited about our big weekend in Victoria.  I thought we were headed straight for the Canadian border, but he pulled into Denny's parking lot in Des Moines.

"Why are we stopping here?"

"Oh, let's eat here and talk."  As he fidgets with his coffee cup, I count the streaks of gray in his thinning hair, waiting for him to bring up the subject I dread.  Sylvia.

"A penny for your thoughts."  He asks that, but never waits for my reply.  "Dusty," his eyebrows pucker as he stares at me, "I want to discuss your attitude.  Concerning Sylvia."

"My" attitude?  I try not to let my voice get an edge to it, hoping we can reach an understanding of some kind.

"There wouldn't be a problem if she would only stop calling me Elizabeth.  I hate it."

"She doesn't do it to irritate you," Dad keeps looking at his watch, then sipping his coffee while I finish my French toast.

"It's her attitude, Dad."  Before I can say anymore, he jumps on me.

"It's your attitude.  You act as if she were invisible when she's talking to you."

"Dad! are you listening to me?  I told you I've asked Sylvia to call me Dusty, but she goes right on calling me Elizabeth, so I don't answer her."

"So why make such an issue of it?"  He squeezed my hand, smiling at me.  "Sylvia's right. You should go by Elizabeth.  You don't want to start high school with a childish nickname, and you might as well start the change-over now.  It'll be easier for everyone."

Another one of those little hurts to be filed away.  My nickname meant a lot to me, and I thought the specialness of it meant something to him, too.  It was no use trying to make him see my side of it, because I think he stopped listening to me somewhere at the beginning.  "Well, anyway, Dad, I hope we can have high tea at the Empress Hotel---Tanya said it was the highlight of her trip and I want to do that, for sure, okay?"

He sighed and rubbed his forehead.  "Princess, I'm real sorry, but I can't get away all weekend.  I just can't."

My breakfast turned to cement.  "Dad!" I wailed, "you promised!" He frowned and motioned me to be quiet, but I wasn't going to let it go that easily.  "I bet you'd have the time if I were Sylvia," I said in a fierce whisper.

"Oh, calm down.  We'll do it another weekend."  He glared back at me, then suddenly relaxed.  "Would you like to go pick out a new dresser right now?"  He looked as though he thought it might make up for the lost weekend, this token offer of his.

"Oh, sure. Why not?" I said, imitating him when he's being sarcastic.  I drank the last of my lukewarm chocolate, not certain if I hated him a little bit or a whole lot.  "I'd like to get another star kit to paint constellations on the ceiling.  Could we do that, Dad?"

"Sure, we'll do it sometime soon."  He must have anticipated me, for he added, "But not today."

It seemed I was getting pretty good at tucking little hurts away, in a hidden pocket near my heart, but somehow it didn't seem worth the effort to stay mad at him.  We spent all afternoon selecting an unstained cedar chest of drawers and bedside tables.  We were both zapped after wrestling everything into my bedroom.  I could tell Dad didn't really want me to stay the night and actually, I didn't mind spending Saturday night at home just watching TV with Frank while my Mom painted in oils on canvas in the back room.

I spent the last weekend in October with Dad.  And Sylvia.  Friday night, we went miniature golfing, which wasn't too bad, considering we ate hot dogs and drank soda pop for supper.  I kind of enjoyed the evening and hoped we might do something like drive to the ocean Saturday, but Dad had an important project and was gone all morning.  At breakfast, I told Sylvia about how Dad and I were going to decorate the bedroom.

"Elizabeth, let's do it and surprise your Dad."  She even winked!

"Ah, well," I hedged, "I think he wanted to do it with me, you know, quality time with his daughter and all that."

She looked at me for a long minute, then lit up.  "Oh, Elizabeth! I bought you something special---for all your help."  She sort of laughed, like she felt awkward giving me the tiny box with a porcelain figurine of a unicorn.

"This is really pretty, Sylvia.  Thanks."  Knick-knacks are not my style, but I was flattered.  I was afraid to pick it up, it looked so delicate.  The shimmery white coating on it glistened in the cool morning sunlight that fell across the table where we sat facing each other.  "I'll put it center ring on top of my dresser."  I smiled extra long and hard.

I took the little unicorn to my bedroom and looked at it in the palm of my hand for a long time.  I turned it upside down to see if there was as sticker on it, thinking maybe I could get a matching one sometime.  Sure enough, there was a sticker.  From the Empress Hotel.

I left the unicorn in the box with the lid on it.  I didn't touch it again, wouldn't even look at it if I could help it.  But it sat there in the middle of my dresser, reminding me of the weekend that should have been mine with Dad.  I sat on the bed, reading a mystery anthology on the electronic reader Dad had given me for Christmas, but my mind kept wandering.

When we were a real family, it seemed like it could never be any other way.  My friends were always telling me, "Dusty, you're so lucky!" and I guess I believed them.  Like I believed in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny; then one day you find out you've been had.

Just like the stupid sci-fi stories I read, I used to imagine myself as a veterinarian aboard a space ship journeying to a distant galaxy, light years away from the Milky Way and Earth.  My parents would be with me, too.  Dad would find a way to put his management consultant ideas to work and Mom would have an art gallery on board the starship.  Or maybe by that time, they'd just want to sit and watch old movies and talk about the "good old days".

I turned off the reader, my mind too stretched out of shape to hold any more words or anymore dreams.

When Dad came back at lunchtime, he stayed awhile in the living room talking with Sylvia.  Eventually, he came into my room.

"Hi, Princess.  You're kind of quiet."  He stood there with a big, stupid grin on his face.

I sat up, cross-legged.  "You and Sylvia went to Victoria, didn't you?"

His grin disappeared.  He didn't answer right away.  "Yes, we did.  That was a while ago, and it was spur of the moment."

"You lied to me."  I don't think he heard me, maybe because my voice was too soft and mushy.  But my guts roiled and felt like lava about to erupt.  I couldn't trust my voice anymore.

"I haven't forgotten my promise, but I wanted to take three days with you, not just an overnight stay."  He sat down beside me.  "How about if I get a season ski-pass as one of your Christmas presents and maybe we could ski on a week day during Christmas vacation at Crystal Mountain, if we get any snow this year."

I just sat and looked out the window at bobbing boats.  When I thought my voice wouldn't crack, I answered.  "Slinky's invited me to go to Disneyland with them New Year's week."  I wanted him to ask me to stay with him all of Christmas vacation, maybe take me to Disneyland himself.

"Sounds like a good deal, kid," Dad seemed real pleased to be off the hook, "but I want you to make plans to be with me Christmas Eve."  He smiled, holding in his secret, waiting for me to get excited, then whispered, "I'm going to give Sylvia an engagement ring.  She doesn't know it, just you and her parents know.  Don't you think that'll surprise her?"

 "What!?" I croaked.  "How can you?  You haven't even known her that long, Dad."  He might as well give me a one way ticket to the moon.  I was about to protest more, but he silenced me with a look.
"Long enough," he snapped, and added in a hoarse whisper, "Keep it a secret, will you?"

Yeah, I'd keep it a secret.  The best way I know how:  I wouldn't think about it.  I didn't want to be around him, near him or ever speak to him again.

I told myself that it didn't matter, and mentally shut the lid down on the hope chest that had all my special dreams inside.  "I don't feel all that great.  Would you take me home?"  I really did feel kind of sick.

"Look, honey, the three of us could go to Vancouver.  We'll go to Stanley Park and Granville Island and make it our special weekend."

"No, thanks, Dad."  I gathered up my things, ignoring him sitting there watching me, not saying anything more to him on the way home.

Mom was surprised to see me.  "What's the matter, Dusty?"

"Nothing."  I dropped my things on the floor.  "Everything."

She came over and hugged me.  I burst into tears.  "I hate him!  I hate him with all my heart!"

"Do you want to talk about it?"  She smoothed away the tears.

"He doesn't care about me!  All he thinks about is that stupid Sylvia!"  I pushed away from her.  "I wish he'd move to Antarctica."  Suddenly, I felt drained and empty and I wanted to forget about Dad and Sylvia and lies and used to be.  "Can I ask Frank to come over tonight?"

"Sure, if you want.  I have work to do in the back office."

I sent Frank a text and he immediately replied that he would be over after dinner, about seven. I wish he could have brought a DVD to watch, other than reruns.

During a dead spot between programs, I had a chance to talk with Frank.  "Hey, Frank," I plopped a can of root beer into his hands.  "Do you miss your Dad?"

He popped the tab, then quickly slurped the foam, which left a mustache on his upper lip.  "No, not that much.  'Course, my folks have been divorced since I was five, so I don't remember much before then."

"Well, you see him, don't you?"  I reached over and zig-zagged my finger through his foamy mustache.  "He's still your Dad and all."

"Yeah, once a month he signs a child support check and writes my name at the bottom.  I guess you could say he knows I exist."

"Don't you spend vacations with him?"  My stomach was tied in knots, like my life depended on his answer.

"He's got his other family and frankly, my dear, I can't stand the little brats, so I don't see him that much."  Frank looked at me and I must have looked pretty shaken up or something because he tried to make it seem like a joke.  "Hey, we live in a disposable society--pampers, snotty tissue and kids.  Just toss one out and get another to replace it.  I got lucky and my Mom married an all right kind of a guy.  He's a little nuts on the 'you pull your weight around here' routine, but he's nice enough. I mean, let’s face it, he lets me drive his car. To the store and back. But," he shrugs and puffs his lips, “I’m only seventeen and The Law says I can’t have passengers for six months, drive at night, or use a cell phone or a wireless device. But I can call on a wireless device if I am in an accident!” He waves his hands around. “Rah! Rah! Wowza!”

What Frank said made me feel a little better.  "Yeah it's been a lot more work for me, too."  Lately I had to do some of the cooking and housework because my Mom's career suddenly "took off" and her paintings have been in demand.

"Did you," I pushed around the last kernels of popcorn in the butter, searching for the right words, then blurted out, "ever catch your parents lying to you?"

He snorted and shook his head.  "Yeah."  He looked me over, I guess maybe my emotions wrote a term paper all over my face, because his voice got real gentle.  "It's like they want you to believe they can do all, be all, for you, Dusty.  They try to make everything all right, and sometimes it isn't but they can't say it like it is, so they try to tell you it isn't, and yes, they lie to you."  He looks at me like he's just explained the quantum theory or something.  "It's not like a personal issue, know what I mean?   They do it cause they think you don't need to know all the truth, all the time, you can't handle it or something.  It's up to you to level with them and tell them you know what's happening and pretty soon they start telling you what's for real."  He pushes me sideways.  "But ya gotta be able to handle it, Rusty-Dusty."

I batted his hand, hard.  "I'm not afraid to hear the truth, Frankenstein."

He snagged my wrist.  "Take my word for it, kid," he looks mean, like a gangster, "don't get whacko, if you don't wanna know the real story."

"How did you feel about your Mom getting remarried?"

"You don't have to like it, Sweetheart, but you have to live with it."  He squeezed my wrist, but not enough to hurt.  "If you know what's good for you, you won't make waves, get my drift?"
I jerked my hand away and turned to watch the end of "The African Queen".  Most times Frank leaves at nine to catch a bus home, but tonight my Mom has offered to drive him home.
"See ya, Dusty," he waves to me as he and my Mom head out the door.

"Have a nice time tomorrow at the Science Fair with Ginny," I flap my hand in farewell, laughing out loud to have caught him off guard.  He didn't figure I'd know about him asking Ginny out, but news travels fast through the grapevine, and I'm usually the first to find out on Facebook.

Except about my own best friend.  I called Slinky Sunday morning and asked her to go bowling with me.

"Ah," she stalled, "I can't Dusty."

"Well?"  I know she's not telling me something she ought to.  "Spit it out."

"Jorge asked me to go to the Pacific Science Center, and I said I would."

"Oh."  Not real original, but I couldn't think of anything else to say.  I guess I wasn't too surprised, since she had been making up all sorts of excuses lately to linger at her locker as Jorge walked by on his way to football practice.  "Hope you have a good time.  Guess I'll see you seventh period tomorrow."

"Dusty!" Slinky chirped, "why don't you ask Frank and we'll all go together?"

"I've got too much homework, all due tomorrow.  Call me later, I want to hear all about this big date of yours."

"You don't have to be mad about it, Dusty."  Slinky accusing me of being mad!

"I'm not, okay?  If you don't want to call me, fine, don't!  Don't have a good time!  I try to be nice and you get all weirded out!"

"Dusty Elizabeth Conner!" Slinky yelled.  "You're my best friend, but you've no right to be mean to me!"

I stood with the phone in my hand and counted to ten, just so I wouldn't lose my temper.  "I didn't mean to be mean to you, Slinky, all right?  I've got a lot of homework and I have to keep my grades up, so I'm working at it.  I'm being serious, like you're always telling me to be.  Now, really, have a good time and call me when you get home because I want to know if you had a good time today.  Because you're my best friend."

The silence on the other end of the line made me wonder if I had gone too far, laid it on too thick, so that Slinky might really get ticked off and never speak to me.

But she didn't sound mad at all.  "Okay, I'll call you.  Maybe around seven?"

"Wonderful," I hung up, feeling left out of everything, everyone's life. Dean and Fran were volunteering at the Science Center and I had opted out.

I'd like to throw all my schoolbooks into the trashcan.  It didn't seem to make much difference if I studied or not, I couldn't seem to pass a test if my life depended on it.  Mom said she wasn't worried, that when I made my mind up to snap out of it, I would.  Like I knew what she was talking about!  I didn't understand the bit, either, about how anger is making me want to fail.  I know that really, I don't want to fail; it's too embarrassing when you've been a straight A student forever.

I tried not thinking about my Dad, instead concentrating on my homework.  Then, zap! it struck me.  Homework would be my excuse!

The following weeks, every time Dad called I told him that I had to do extra credit projects to salvage my grades.  It worked.  He stopped calling me and I got low B’s instead of D’s.

I had more time to spend with Fran and Dean; even Annie joined us for a long weekend with my Mom down at the beach over Thanksgiving weekend. We splashed around in the waves and made one huge sand castle that collapsed under its own weight.

Slinky also worked real hard, getting above-average grades and Jorge as a steady.  I needed the time to study, at least that's what I kept telling myself on the Saturdays while Slinky flitted around the football field, practicing routines as a new cheerleader.

Dad turned himself into Super Dad before Christmas.  He started by sending me a dozen small roses with a note asking if we could be friends again.  I thought it was dumb. I didn't want to be friends with my father.  Then he made a big deal out of taking me to the "Nutcracker" ballet, just the two of us, and a fancy dinner besides.  I guess you might say I can be bought, but at least the horrible sadness I had been wrapped up in for weeks went away.

I didn't see Frank before Christmas.  It probably was just as well that I didn't come out and ask him if he liked me, you know, as a friend or if he thought he might like me like a girlfriend, because those kind of questions can be pretty hard to answer and I really didn't want to know anyway, if he didn't like me as a guy likes a girl.  The next time he wanted to come over, though, I had a lot to discuss with him, and it wasn't about him and me.

Sylvia asked me to be in her wedding!  "What I am going to do, Franko?  I don't like her.  Besides, I'm too old to be a flower girl."

Frank looked nice in his sapphire blue cotton tee shirt and acid-washed jeans.  "So tell her you're too old to be a flower girl."  He's grown so tall these last few months, I hardly recognize him, but he's still the same smart-alec Frank.

"So just tell her!" I mimic him, voice cracking and all.  "I thought you were the expert."

"No, Fluffy-Duffy, I was never asked to be a flower girl."  He flips my nose and sneers at me.
I pinch him on the arm as hard as I can, but he doesn't even flinch.  "You're full of all sorts of good advice, aren't you?"

"So go elsewhere and get the truth." He turned his attention back to the television.  "I don't know what to tell you." 

That's my life:  just when it seemed like things were going all right, it bottomed.

I was sure my Dad would get me the star stencil kit, but he gave me an iPod, which everyone assumed I'd like.  Only I really wanted the star stencil kit so I went out and bought it myself with money I had earned babysitting and doing yard work jobs with Dean and Fran.  But I hadn't the opportunity to do my room at Dad's condo, or spend much time with Dad without Sylvia talking constantly about their upcoming wedding.  She waved that stupid engagement ring around like it was the Hope diamond, instead of a tiny, little piece of rock that needed a magnifying glass to show it off.
And being with Slinky's a real treat.  All she does is ask me zillions of questions about The Wedding.  "Wow! A big blow-out!  Sylvia's going to be the most beautiful bride!  And your Dad and her are such a cute couple.  Aren't you excited?"

"Not really."  I take a long look at my friend, the stranger seated next to me.  Maybe our friendship's history.  But even so, I promised her that I would ask my Dad to invite her to the wedding on June 25th, the weekend after school lets out.  And wouldn't you know it, he said, Yes”, and Sylvia was thrilled.