The Possibility of Somewhere Read online

  “Eden, do you need a ride?”

  I glanced down to the meadow below. Ash waited on the grass. What had he asked again?

  Did I need a ride? Yes.

  Would I let him drive me to the trailer park? Never.

  “No thanks.”

  He shrugged and turned to go.

  “Ash?” He paused but didn’t look back. I enunciated clearly, to make sure he heard. “No hard feelings afterwards. I promise.”

  8

  Whatever University

  Heron High had a home football game Friday night. Our pep rally started at two and raged in noisy chaos for an hour, after which most of the student body dispersed. I headed for the computer lab, fully expecting to be the only student to show for Webmaster’s Club.

  It was silent except for the hum of fluorescent lights. I logged in to the To-Do-List account and checked its e-mail. Fifty messages. There were content changes for the web site, event notices to add to the school calendar, and an interview with the vice principal to post on the Faculty Facts page. I would be busy for a couple of hours.

  A chair squawked in the lab’s office. “Eden?” Mrs. Barber yelled.

  “Yes, ma’am.” I could get away with calling her Gina at family events, but she wasn’t actually related to me. At school we were formal.

  “What’re you working on?” she said, her voice drawing nearer.

  “The usual updates. Do you have anything for me to do?”

  Mrs. Barber crossed the room and sat on the table beside my desktop computer, sipping from a can of Diet Cheerwine. “I have an important project for you, but it might take a while to finish.”

  My heart sank. Dad was supposed to pick me up at five. “How long?”

  “If you do it well, a couple of months.” She dropped a large, thin envelope on the table next to me. The label read Peyton Scholarship Program.

  Yes. The Peyton meant a full ride for four years at the University of North Carolina. Honors college. Study abroad. No restrictions on my college major. It was highly competitive and prestigious as hell.

  This scholarship would be a huge win for me. I could go to one of the top colleges for special education in the country. The money would become a much smaller issue. And I wouldn’t be all that far from home. I liked the idea of being an easy drive away from Marnie.

  It was the perfect solution.

  I’d never invested a lot of effort into dreams. When daily survival took everything I had, flexibility was more practical than hope. But this? The Peyton? It scared me how much I wanted it.

  “Thanks.” With shaking hands, I ripped the envelope open and pulled out the half-dozen loose sheets. The application requirements were predictable. A resume with outstanding grades, extracurriculars, leadership, and SAT scores. An essay. Recommendation letters from a teacher and a community member. And then …

  Big problem. A consent form signed by a parent or legal guardian for applicants under eighteen. Like me. Would Marnie be able to talk Dad into signing it?

  “Eden, do you need me to speak with Byron?”

  My reaction had been visible on my face. I had to watch that. “No thanks. I’ll handle it.”

  I’d worry about the parent part later, because there was another hurdle to get past. It was virtually impossible to become a finalist without the support of my school, and Heron High was limited to one endorsement. The Honors Committee would only invite a few students to apply. Since Ash and Upala were planning to go out of state, that left Dwayne Key as my main competitor. My academics against his sports.

  Besides being ranked number one in the class, I had more AP classes and amazing SAT scores, but my extracurriculars were a major weakness. Webmaster’s Club was the only school-based activity I’d had since my sophomore year, although I did have essay and poetry contest wins and I’d placed well in my age category for a couple of 5K races.

  Dwayne was ranked fourth in our class, which would hurt him compared to me, but the rest of his resume was solid. The tennis team. The senior rep to the Student Council.

  Who was on the Honors Committee this year? That could make a big difference in whether they cared more about academics or “being well-rounded.” Would this year’s committee give me credit for my jobs? The chair was supposed to make sure that they did. Otherwise, poor kids wouldn’t stand a chance.

  I looked at Mrs. Barber. “Has the Honors Committee been named?”

  “As of this morning.”

  “Do you know who’s on it?”

  “I do, since I’m the chair.”

  Whoa. Yeah. “Congratulations.” Mrs. Barber loved me, and she was the chair. She’d insist that the committee count my work history. And there were my superior academics …

  This was good. Very good. “Who else?”

  “Ms. Lee, Mr. Applewood, and Mrs. Parsons.”

  “Mrs. Parsons?” At Gina’s resigned nod, I looked away. That was good for me, too. As the head of athletics, Mrs. Parsons had been my track coach for a year and liked me pretty well. But she was also the person who had given Ash his only B. I’d heard that “transfer” students never got A’s from her. No one could prove it, but it was generally accepted that Mrs. Parsons made it easier for local kids to win school honors—by hurting the chances of anyone “not from around here.” Dwayne and I didn’t have to worry about that, though. “She’s a strange choice.”

  “She insisted.”

  The principal must have caved. That was interesting. Wonder what she had on him? “How soon will you hold interviews?”

  “Mid-November.”

  I nodded but inside I was smiling. I might not be popular with kids my age, but I would do well in interviews with teachers. And the essay? I wasn’t worried. I was a better writer than most. “There’s plenty of time to prepare.”

  “Yes.” She bit her lip. “Unfortunately, I’ll have to recuse myself from voting on the endorsement, Eden.”

  I blinked in surprise. “Why?”

  “Tiffany is one of the candidates.”

  Tiffany Barber? How did that happen? I knew she had a crapload of extracurriculars. Dance Team. Vice president of Student Council and the Journalism Club. But her grades had to be the best-kept secret in the high school, because I hadn’t realized they were that good. “How is she getting this past her dad?”

  “I don’t know. She realizes that she’ll have to work it out.” Her lips twisted. “He’s competitive. That might be enough to do the trick.”

  “So she must be ranked in the top five in our class.” Which was an absolute stunner.

  “I can’t confirm that.” Gina shook her head at me. “This will be a hard decision. All four of you are strong.”

  “Four?”

  “You, Dwayne, Tiffany, and Ash.”

  What?

  That couldn’t be right. Ash wasn’t in the running. Everybody knew where his top pick was. “Ash is applying to Stanford.”

  “He won’t know whether he’s been accepted until December, and Carolina is one of his safety schools. Ash is seeking the endorsement, too.”

  * * *

  The Peyton consumed me Friday night.

  The news about Ash was a blow. I’d finally found a full-ride scholarship to a college I’d give anything to attend, and now it might slip through my fingers and go to Ash, whose parents were rich enough to send him anywhere he wanted.

  I wouldn’t have worried much about Tiffany and Dwayne. The label of valedictorian would’ve been hard to beat, especially once the teachers knew that I had to sacrifice extracurriculars for a job. But Ash was different. If our school system had chosen weighted GPA instead of unweighted, he would be valedictorian. And he had leadership, clubs, and sports. He looked better than me on paper. The committee was likely to endorse Ash. Then Stanford would admit him, and he would turn the Peyton down.

  This wasn’t fair. How dare he!

  What must that be like—to pursue a scholarship simply because you wanted it? I had no other way to afford a school like Car
olina. It terrified me to think what would happen if I didn’t get the Peyton or some other scholarship like it. I was smart. I was good. I would make an amazing special-ed teacher, and I could lose it all because Ash wanted to pile up prestigious awards that he would never use.

  I wasn’t sure how much more of a battering my heart could take.

  The rest of the evening was spent assessing the probability of me winning the endorsement now that Ash was in the running, and I had to admit it was close. But I wasn’t giving up. If there was an angle I could exploit, I would find it.

  * * *

  Dad woke me early Saturday morning to leave for the hardware store. We arrived there at nine o’clock. Five minutes later, I was done.

  Mr. Cooper’s problem turned out to be easy. He’d gotten his font size uncomfortably small and hadn’t known how to change it. Fortunately, his desktop computer used Windows. I’d fixed it immediately and then taught him what to do if it happened again.

  “So, you’re good now,” I said, sliding off the chair.

  “Yes.” He patted me awkwardly on the shoulder. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Let me pay you for coming.” He reached in the petty cash box and handed me a ten.

  “Thanks.” I would never admit it to my dad, but I’d enjoyed this.

  “Look, Eden.” Mr. Cooper cleared his throat. “Would you like to work a few hours each week and help me with computer stuff? Things like typing in data and running reports?”

  I would’ve been tempted if I had any time, but I didn’t. “That’s nice, Mr. Cooper—”

  “She’d like that,” Dad said from behind me.

  I turned to him, eyes narrowed and pissed. No, I mouthed.

  “She’ll call you next week.” He was looking past me to his boss. “If it’s all right, I’ll take a quick break and drive Eden home.”

  “Sure, sure.” The old guy bobbed his head. “Thanks again, honey.”

  I remained silent on the way back to the trailer, too upset to speak without yelling.

  As he turned onto our lane, he said, “This could be a great job for you.”

  “I’m old enough to decide what’s right for me, and in this case, I don’t have time.” Why couldn’t he get that through his thick head?

  “You’re not busy on the weekends.”

  “I study like crazy on the weekends. I have a tough semester.”

  “If you do good with the computer, Cooper might keep you on after you graduate.”

  “I’ll be gone after I graduate.”

  Dad scowled as he pulled into the driveway. “And where the hell do you think you’ll be?”

  “At college.”

  “Cape Fear Tech isn’t that far. You can commute.”

  I did not want to get into this with him. “I won’t be attending a community college.”

  He cut the engine. “I don’t know what else you have in mind.”

  Marnie’s car wasn’t here. Dread flickered in my gut. My dad and I were on the brink of a fight, and she wouldn’t be here to defuse it. I unclipped the seat belt, gripped my bag, and slid from the truck. I’d made no secret that I was leaving Heron and heading to whatever university handed me the most money. He’d always ridiculed my plans, but that hadn’t stopped me from pursuing them.

  “Don’t walk away from me, Eden. I haven’t finished talking to you.”

  I unlocked the front door of the trailer and stalked into my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. I’d just flopped onto my bed when there were two sharp raps at my door. I watched as it swung open.

  He loomed in the doorway, nostrils flaring. “Just where exactly do you think you’re going to college?”

  I rolled off the opposite side of the bed and stood, facing him across the barrier. “I’m working on it.”

  “I ain’t paying for you to leave.”

  “I never expected you to, Dad. I’m the girl who bails out her parents, remember? You’re threatening me with a weapon you don’t have.”

  He crossed his arms and stared at me through narrowed eyes. Curiosity replaced anger in the set of his jaw. “How do you plan to get the money?”

  “Scholarships. Grants. Whatever it takes.”

  “Will they need to know about our income?”

  “Most of them, yeah.”

  His upper lip curled into a triumphant sneer. “Then you gotta big problem, baby girl.”

  That reaction alarmed me. “Why?”

  “I haven’t been too careful about filing our taxes. You can’t give the government a reason to take a look.”

  * * *

  After dinner, I slipped out of the house, ran across the back deck, and jogged the short distance to the wooden pier jutting into Heron’s Bay.

  Maybe other people looked down on us since we lived in a trailer park, but they didn’t know what they were missing, because I had the bay. Our lot had three hundred feet of frontage, endless wildlife, beautiful sunsets, and the soft, sweet lap of waves against a shore that was all mine.

  In the two years since we’d moved into Heron Estates, I’d become addicted to this spot. I could creep out, day or night, and come to the end of the dock. I would sit, legs dangling, while the world around me waited, quiet and still. It made me feel small but important. I liked that thought. I fit here. The bay soothed my pain and brought me peace.

  I needed that tonight. My big plans had depended on financial aid, and I would’ve qualified for lots of it—merit and need-based. But nearly all scholarship programs required that I fill out the government’s FAFSA form, and it was designed to suck in tax information automatically. I was screwed.

  By cheating on his taxes, my dad had stolen my future, and I had no idea how to steal it back.

  9

  Bag Lady

  Marnie outdid herself with a late Sunday breakfast. Boone had driven up from Wilmington to spend the day, and she expressed her approval with food. We all benefited.

  I didn’t talk during the meal. There was no chance to since Boone had plenty to say. He was working as an EMT and taking classes at the community college. Currently, he was in between girlfriends, but that wasn’t likely to last long.

  While Boone and Marnie cleaned up, I put on my running shoes and hit the 5K trail along Heron’s Bay. I’d been on the track team my freshman year and had done well at a few of our meets. That had all ended when my dad got laid off from the nuclear power plant. Extracurriculars were expensive, and my parents had needed me to earn income at whatever job I could find. I’d traded running for busing tables.

  This trail was another of the reasons I was glad that I lived in Heron Estates. It was beautiful along here, especially on a day with gorgeous weather.

  When I got back home, I found my family sitting in the den, drinking beer and watching a football game. As I slipped past them, my dad said, “Your brother likes Cape Fear. It’s a good school.”

  I ignored the comment. After showering, I changed into shorts and a tank top and hid in my bedroom. With the curtains drawn, the space was dim, clean, and in perfect order. Just what I needed to concentrate. I sat cross-legged on the carpet and reached under my bed.

  My fingers closed around a folder of paper that I couldn’t let my dad know about. I’d spent an hour on Saturday at the county library, printing off everything I could find about private scholarships. Without FAFSA, public financial aid was out, and most of the private ones required it too. But there had to be something available for me. Right?

  I sorted through the information I’d collected on private aid and organized them into two stacks, in- and out-of-state. Of the private scholarships in-state, there were only three that didn’t require FAFSA. The Peyton was one of them.

  Yes.

  I had to win it, and getting my high school’s endorsement was practically mandatory. I had to do everything in my power to make that happen.

  Tires crunched on the gravel driveway of our lot. Who was coming by at three o’clock?

&nb
sp; A car door creaked and slammed shut. The visitor climbed the steps and clumped across the porch. There were five raps on the front door.

  I debated whether to move. In theory, I should be the one to answer, since no more than six feet separated me from the door being rapped on.

  Rap, rap.

  Yes, it should be me. In theory.

  The TV went mute. “No need to move your lazy ass, Eden,” my brother shouted, his footsteps booming nearer. “I’ll get it.”

  I shoved the folder back under my bed.

  The front door was wrenched open.

  “Hey,” Boone said in his impress-the-pretty-girl voice. “How can I help you?”

  “I’m Mundy Cruz. Is Eden here?”

  Whoa. I stood, financial aid forgotten.

  “Yeah,” Boone was saying, “I think she’s at home.” He peered at me, aware that the front door blocked Mundy’s view. “Sis?”

  I walked over and punched him. “Got this.”

  He punched me back. “You have a guest.”

  “I can see that.” I blinked at her, shocked and disturbed and elated. “Why are you here?”

  “I thought we could hang out,” she said. “May I come in?”

  My brother nodded. I did not. She went with Boone’s response and stepped onto the fake marble square that served as our foyer. There was a corduroy bag slung over one shoulder.

  “I’m Boone Moore.” He hadn’t backed up and was, therefore, crowding her. “Eden’s brother.”

  “Hi, Boone.” She smiled.

  He jerked a finger toward the love seat. “That’s our dad.”

  “Hi, Mr. Moore.”

  Dad nodded, his eyes never leaving the television. Marnie had disappeared.

  I waved Mundy into my room as I made a face at my brother. “Bye. Drive safely if I don’t see you again.”

  “I’ll let you know when I leave.”

  “Not necessary.” I shut the bedroom door and leaned against it as the volume on the football game ramped up again.

  Mundy had tossed her corduroy bag onto the pillows of my bed, messing them up. She was now standing by my bookcase, checking out my things.

  I waited rigidly by the door. I wasn’t used to having people in my room.