Beautiful: Truth's Found When Beauty's Lost Part 4

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He glanced at her and laughed slightly. "Don't you have some departing guests waiting for you?"

"Tell me first what that's supposed to mean. That I'm Ellie Summerfield."

"No one tells you, huh?"

"What? Just state your little observation. What do people say about me? That I'm an overachiever, a sn.o.b . . ."

"No." He laughed again. "That you can do anything. You'll help anyone. You'd give your last dollar and not expect anything back. That you're going to do great things in the world."

Was he being sarcastic? She couldn't tell. And suddenly she didn't want to know.

"I'll see you around," she said and went inside.

Mom spotted her. "You missed saying good-bye to Bob and Nancy. They waited for you. Didn't Megan tell you?"

"I don't even know who they are," she said.

"Nancy was my best friend when I was a kid."

"I was talking to someone."

"Oh, okay. Did you call Ryan to see if he has your bracelet?"

Someone called for Mom from the kitchen, and Ellie took the chance to duck into the half bathroom that was next to the laundry room. Without turning on the light, she locked the door, closed the toilet lid, and sat down. She could stay here until it was quiet.

Megan shook her head. Guys. Did they ever think with their brains?

Will liked to act the part of original Bohemian with his baggy slacks, long drags on a cigarette, and writeresque sweaters-or even better, his blazer over a T-s.h.i.+rt. It worked for him. The girls liked it. It might have worked for her if she hadn't known Will since they were children. Megan couldn't look at him without picturing the little boy who ate paste in kindergarten.

So now Will had one minute alone with Miss USA and he was all into her. Truth was, Will had had a thing for Ellie since they were kids. Off and on, he'd ask about who she was dating or what she was doing. One time Megan told him to go ask her himself. When Ellie started dating Ryan, he'd actually sounded angry. "Why would she date Ryan Blasin? What's wrong with her? She's becoming less and less original."

Megan wondered when Ellie had ever been original, but she kept that to herself.

She closed her bedroom door with satisfaction. Her duties as bereaved granddaughter were officially over, in her opinion. She'd helped all afternoon and into the night. Now it was music and talking with friends online and then going out later on, which included seeing James. She decided to shower and change into something else.

The funeral program for Grandfather Edward caught her eye. Suddenly she wondered if he'd felt any pain.

The last time she'd seen her grandfather was over the summer. She stayed a few days with him when her parents went away for their anniversary. She'd cleaned his house, which sorely needed it; then they watched Clint Eastwood movies and smoked in the living room side by side. Grandfather didn't care if she drank or went out after he went to sleep.

Megan had planned to visit him more, promised it, even. But the weeks pa.s.sed so quickly. In a month she'd be eighteen. For this one month, she and Ellie were both seventeen. Ellie was the accident that intruded into Megan's life, making her a big sister after less than a year of life.

James had sent her several texts that she'd ignored until now. He liked her, she knew it. And she liked him, though he didn't know. Megan wasn't sure she wanted to get involved with another musician. They didn't listen or play well with others. It was all about them. But James did seem different. He certainly could play the guitar. And he'd never be attracted to someone like her sister. That was a plus.

Ellie didn't last an hour without her cell phone or computer in the bathroom. If she'd had those, she could've stayed there all night. But at least most people were gone when she crept out and upstairs to Megan's room.

She lay on the blow-up mattress on her sister's floor, trying to decide whether to address Ryan's "I love you" over text or not, when her sister hopped up from bed, fully dressed-back in her usual black-and walked out the bedroom door with the stealth of a spy.

There was no sound of her departure, no outside doors opening or closing, but Ellie knew Megan was gone. She lay there in the dark, phone in hand. Who was her sister anyway?

The walls of Megan's room had been stripped of posters and pictures. She'd painted it gray with red arrows pointing around the room to one wall and then down to a small dot in the center. In a few months, she would paint the whole thing over with a new design. Her walls were her palette, Ellie supposed.

Ellie liked her room better, decorated in a sort of French baroque mixed with funky lanterns and strings of white lights. Aunt Beatrice had pursed her lips upon entry.

Ryan: Night Els. Sorry about your bracelet. I'll find it.

If he wasn't going to bring it up, she wouldn't either, though it surely weighed heavily on him. He had told her that he'd never say those words unless he was completely serious and completely in love.

She typed: Thanks for the lake trip. It was incredible, except for the bracelet thing.

Then she cringed as she wrote: Night. Love ya.

After an hour of tossing and turning, Ellie rose and slipped a sweater over her shoulders. Opening Megan's bedroom window, she pushed the screen open on its hinge and climbed out. It was as easy as in her own room. She climbed up the roof to the spot above the dormer window of her bedroom.

She hadn't been out here in a year or so. There was a haze in the air around the streetlights down the road, and the night smelled of burning leaves and autumn.

Ellie thought of G.o.d then, as she usually did when sitting on the roof. The first time she'd come out here, she'd been praying about something and had read a verse about someone climbing a watchtower and waiting for G.o.d's answer. This was her watchtower.

Now she wondered at the distance she felt between herself and G.o.d. When had that happened? He felt farther than the dimmest stars.

No matter how many people said she was amazing, Ellie never felt she'd reached what she was supposed to reach, or overcome some dark force that chased at her heels.

For years Ellie had pushed down her grandfather's words. She could take them out today, unfold them like a worn-out letter she'd read and hidden too many times. He was dead now. He could never recant. He could never explain why he had seemed to hate her so deeply.

Mittens came pattering lightly up the roof, distracting her thoughts with his soft meow.

"How's my old kitty? I bet you hate all these people in your house. But you love me, don't you?"

He purred loudly and rolled to his side as she petted him.

Ellie could see Will's house from this part of the roof. He was gone to wherever it was Megan had left for. She hadn't invited Ellie to come along, of course. Ellie usually figured Megan was hanging out with people she shouldn't be hanging out with. Was Will one of them? And why was she suddenly feeling left out?

A lonely chill crept over her, and she pulled her sweater closer around her shoulders. Her baggy pajama bottoms were thin, and she felt goose b.u.mps rise on her calves and thighs.

Something else was nagging at her. A lot of somethings. About Ryan. And about her grandfather. And something about herself as well.

Ellie never heard her sister come home. When her cell phone buzzed at 6:00 a.m., she heard Megan groan and rolled over to see her sister hide her head under the pillow. Ellie didn't want to get up, but she dragged herself out, determined not to wait another day to get back to normal.

When she came in sweaty and out of breath after her morning run, Dad was pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Well, if it isn't Rosy Cheeks."

Which meant her face was beet red like it always got when she ran. But at least Dad sounded like himself again. Maybe now that the funeral was over they'd all get back to normal.

Megan was up, too, sitting on a bar stool, with her black hair sticking up and dark circles under her eyes. "Why not add the Olympics to your goals for world domination?"

"Funny."

"You aren't normal, you do realize that? I should be sleeping, but someone gets up before dawn on a Sat.u.r.day morning. There's something seriously wrong with that."

"Just because I have goals and dreams . . ." Ellie began, but Megan was shuffling toward the stairs with her coffee cup in hand. She cursed under her breath, and for a moment Ellie wanted to call, "Mom, Megan said a bad word!" as if they were ten and eleven again.

For some reason this thought made her forgive Megan. Whatever her sister had been going through for the past, well, forever, she had to come out of it sometime. Mom a.s.sured her it might take till they both left for college-different colleges, preferably.

"Ellie, your mom and I need to talk to you soon," Dad said as he poked his head out of the refrigerator, where he was digging around.

"What about?"

"Your career plans. Your mother is concerned."

Ellie made a face. "Where are Mom and the aunts?"

"Early-bird prices at Macy's."

"I'll tell Mom that it's what G.o.d wants me to do. How can she argue with that?"

He turned around. "Is that what you think?"

She shrugged. It had been a joke, but there was truth in it as well. "I've always wanted to help in a bigger way. International law, humanitarian work, foreign journalism, something like that. You and Mom have known that for years."

"It's getting closer to reality now."

"Finally."

"Well, finally for you, but for us, we see our little girl-and we always will. The idea of you in some dangerous war-torn country that probably hates America-that's not very comforting. Your mom wants you to consider other options."

"And what do you think?"

"Maybe I'm blaming your mother for more of this than is fair because, yes, I'd rather see my daughter in a safe career as well. But I also know you have a definite purpose for your life."

"Okay, Dad, we'll talk about it. What about Megan?"

Dad raised his eyebrow, and they both smiled. "If you can get any of Megan's plans out of her, I'll give you a prize. Want some orange juice?"

"After I shower. Be right back," Ellie said and raced upstairs.

The hot water felt good against her skin. Though her run was harder than usual after a week off, the exercise invigorated a renewed strength. She was getting back to her old self. No more thinking that her grandfather might haunt her more in death than in life. That he'd get even for the bracelet, or that he was somehow responsible for her losing it. She didn't believe that, anyway.

She wished life were as easy to clean up as a good scrub in the shower. She believed in finding peace with people, and it nagged at her that Grandfather Edward was gone.

Standing at the cemetery, she had remembered drawing a picture for him when she was seven years old. It showed a little girl with tears dripping to the ground beside a row of flowers. She'd drawn it after Grandfather had yelled at her for something; she couldn't remember what. And across the top she'd written, Sorry. I love you Grandpa.

She never gave it to him. She had been too afraid.

Chapter 3.

THE OUTSIDER.

The Anonymous Blog about Life at West Redding High Sat.u.r.day Edition (Why not?)

This blog is getting so many hits that it might indicate that I'm-ugh, no, please, not that-popular. This is "The Outsider," folks, so please read and respond, but don't go around school searching for the writer or looking at him or her (which is me) with some kind of praise and following. And absolutely no voting for me for homecoming queen or king. I'm serious. You will experience pain.

Now back to my thoughts about that, in fact. Homecoming is coming in a few weeks. Someone needs to s.h.i.+ne up those tiaras so our homecoming royalty can be sparkly. What is it about homecoming? My intense research, a quick peek on the ever-reliable Wikipedia (that was a joke, folks-do not use Wikipedia for your fact-finding research, though I gotta say that I love it), revealed that homecoming started as a time to welcome back school alumni-the first ones were held at universities in Missouri and Illinois back in the early 1900s. I believe the whole royalty thing was made up by the same kind of people who started beauty pageants. Yes, I find them both disgusting, but is that a surprise? This is "The Outsider"!

And yet, instead of ranting about it, we're going to combat it. We're going to vote for The Outsider Queen and King during homecoming. So start thinking of nominations. The first nomination is for Cappy Bradshaw. Not many at Redding High know him, but he has a photography portfolio that'd blow you away. And since I'm the blogmaster here, I'm giving him 5 votes.

Enjoy your weekend. Don't do anything you wouldn't want told on "The Outsider."

"You either want to have s.e.x tonight or else you're being cruel to that boyfriend of yours."

Ellie stood before the mirror, putting on eyeliner, as Megan came into the room.

"I like this skirt," Ellie said defensively, turning to the side to see just how short it was. It was short, and she wasn't planning to wear it tonight. She was just trying on different s.h.i.+rts and pants from the clothes she'd grabbed from her occupied room. Now if she changed, Megan would think it was because of her comment.

"Where'd you go last night?" Ellie asked.

"Out." Megan picked up one of Ellie's s.h.i.+rts and gave it a condescending look.

"Do you sneak out often?"

Megan shrugged. "Pretty much."

"How long have you been friends with Will?"