No Place Like Home Read online

  Just when I think it couldn’t possibly get any worse, someone comes through the curtains. And when she smiles her devious smile, I’m certain she’s heard enough to totally take me down.

  Shelby.

  chapter seventeen

  I’ve been going crazy all morning. Ashia isn’t returning my texts, and Shelby hasn’t tried to contact me after our run-in yesterday. I should be excited for our trip to Minnesota, but school is closed for Nevada Day and I have to wait for what seems like forever for Dad to be done with work.

  My new chaperone is here, but she’s much more interested in doing her college homework than paying any attention to me. Hey, Nannies to Go—“extensively screened” doesn’t necessarily mean interesting.

  I try watching TV. I pick up a book and attempt to read. I consider cleaning my room until I stand in the doorway and remember there’s really nothing in it.

  If only I had some idea what was happening. Does Ashia hate me now? Does Bren know? Oh man, does Tate know? Is that why we never did set a time to get together today?

  The questions keep coming, especially the big one—what will Shelby do?

  Not only do I have the entire weekend to let all this stir around in my brain, but we’re also off on Monday and Tuesday for staff development. Dad has never closed “school” for five days straight in all the time he’s been teaching me. I guess I should be grateful I don’t have to face anyone.

  And just when I decide it’s probably a good thing there’s no school so I can avoid the impending disaster, the doorbell rings.

  “Ken, you gonna get that?” the chaperone calls up the stairs.

  Seriously? I clomp down the stairs to the front door, and she’s sitting on the floor with her books spread all over the coffee table. “My name is Kenzie,” I say.

  “Yeah, I shorten everything,” she says. “Funny, since I insist everyone call me Alexandria.” Ah, right, that’s her name.

  When I open the door, Bren is standing there, hands in his pockets.

  “Hi,” I say, the surprise making its way into my voice.

  “Hey. You busy?” he asks.

  From the other room, Alexandria decides to peep up. “Is that a boy? You can’t have a boy in the house, K.”

  Bren lowers his eyebrows.

  “Chaperone,” I say. “Apparently Ken wasn’t a short enough nickname for me.”

  I slink through the front door. “No problem, Alex,” I call into the house. “We’ll sit on the porch.”

  As I sit down, I can’t stop wondering if Bren knows. But of course he does. Why else would he be here?

  Brave and bold, Kenzie. Might as well ask.

  “So I’m guessing you heard?” I turn away slightly.

  “Heard what?” he asks. “That you and Shelby are friends now?” His face has a questioning sort of look.

  “Definitely not,” I say. “Why would you ask that?”

  “I ran into her on my way over here and she said to tell you she said hi,” he answers.

  She’s clearly up to no good, but there’s something more important I have to ask. “So wait, why are you here?”

  “I wanted to drop this off.” He hands me a picture book on onomatopoeias. “My sister got it at her school book fair, and I thought you’d like it.”

  I smile, remembering the day I discovered Brent is a poetry nerd just like I am. “That’s really sweet. Thank you. I’ll return it to you next week, if that’s okay.”

  As if on cue, ruining the moment, my phone buzzes with a text from Shelby.

  Give up Dorothy. Or everyone will know who you really are.

  I’m not quick enough hiding it from Bren and he reads over my shoulder.

  “I’m assuming Dorothy means the role of Dorothy and not some doll or dog or something?”

  I nod.

  “And I’m guessing you have a pretty big secret you don’t want to get out,” he says.

  I nod again.

  “You do realize you’re being blackmailed, right?” he asks.

  Nod.

  We sit in silence for a few minutes before Alexandria pops her head out. “You guys okay out here?” she asks.

  “Yes” is all I answer. Although I am so not okay.

  Once she’s inside, I turn so I’m facing Bren. “Aren’t you going to ask what it is?”

  “What what is?” he asks.

  “The secret,” I answer. “The thing Shelby is using to blackmail me.”

  “Nope.”

  Wow. Ashia won’t talk to me, and Shelby is totally taking advantage, but not Bren. I don’t get this kid.

  “You probably won’t want to be my friend anymore once you find out,” I say.

  Bren sits back and fakes a shocked expression. “Whoa. Hold on. Are you saying we’re friends, sunshine?”

  I let out a little laugh. “I’m saying not for long.”

  He leans forward, arms on his knees, and focuses on his sneakers. “Listen, I have a lot of friends, but nobody quite like you,” he says with a smile. “I don’t plan on giving that up anytime soon.”

  I smile back, wondering how I missed this side of him.

  “Also, you’ve taken over so many of my book club duties that I have time to play video games after school now,” he says. “So that alone is worth keeping you around.”

  I bump my shoulder into him, letting him know I don’t appreciate the joke.

  “You shouldn’t let Shelby boss you around,” he says.

  “If I don’t, she’ll tell,” I say.

  “Would that be so bad?” he asks.

  I want to tell him he doesn’t know. I want to give him the whole story and explain. But I also don’t want him to run away screaming.

  “You should scoop her,” he says. “Put the truth out there yourself.”

  I’m about to let him know exactly how crazy he is, until I get an idea. “You might actually be onto something.”

  He waits as I plop my face into my hands and rub my forehead for a minute.

  “Will you help me?” I ask.

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “Great. We need to call Divi.” I grab his hand and pull him into the house, past Alexandria the chaperone, who is too busy with her nose in a book to notice. When we get to the kitchen, I pick up my phone and find Divi’s number.

  * * *

  I text Divi three times and leave her two messages. I finally get one back.

  What’s the emergency?

  I call her immediately. Bren’s right: The old-fashioned pick-up-the-phone-and-call method is so much easier than texting for half an hour.

  “I need your help,” I say. “If you’re willing.”

  I explain my plan to write an unofficial letter to the cast of the musical and the student council with my complete confession. But Divi is more curious about what’s going on than Bren.

  “I don’t understand,” she says. “What did you do?”

  I need to tell her, especially if she’s going to help me write this up, but Bren is sitting right here, and I can’t bear to lose two friends at once.

  “Can I write the letter and send it to you?” I ask. “I want to get the words right.”

  She agrees to help me and I give her a huge thank you. When I hang up the phone, Bren is heading toward the front door.

  “You’re leaving?” I ask. He doesn’t yet realize how ironic it is that I’m asking him if he’s leaving.

  “I’m giving you some space,” he says. “When you’re ready, you’ll share whatever it is with whoever needs to know.”

  Several names pop into my head, including the teachers and activity leaders who’ve helped me out since I’ve been here.

  I walk him out to the porch. “Thank you, Bren,” I say.

  He gives me a little smile. “Things haven’t been the same since you got here. In a good way,” he says. “I just hope that whatever this is, it doesn’t make you want to leave.”

  I take a deep breath and quietly let it out. Because I honestly don’t know wh
at I want right now.

  * * *

  I’m in the airport and I finally get a text from Tate.

  Sorry. Parents had other plans for day off. Maybe tomorrow?

  I’m guessing he doesn’t know yet.

  It’s okay, I write back. But I’ll be in Minnesota tomorrow.

  Minnesota?!

  Long story. Would be going to see the real ruby slippers if they hadn’t been stolen.

  Have fun.

  Thanks. Gotta go.

  I turn off my phone and lean my head on Dad’s shoulder.

  “Everything okay?” he asks.

  “It will be,” I say. “Someday, I think it will be.”

  Dad puts an arm around me and squeezes my shoulder. “Is it a boy?”

  “No. Yes. It’s a bunch of things,” I say.

  “But you’re still liking school?” he asks.

  “Yeah—I mean, I love it. It’s just that middle school is a lot harder than I ever imagined it would be.”

  An announcement for a gate change booms over the loudspeaker, so we both stop and listen, but it’s not for us.

  “I’m guessing you’re not talking about the schoolwork,” says Dad.

  “No. My teachers are much nicer than my last one.” I sit up and smirk at Dad, and he smiles back at me. “Dad, did you ever keep a secret you were pretty sure you shouldn’t have?”

  Dad looks up at the ceiling and then at me. “Honey, we’ve all done that. Anything I can help with?”

  I shake my head.

  “How about this,” he says. “You have a birthday coming up, and we can either go somewhere or have a party here next weekend and invite your new friends.”

  But I can’t tell Dad I might not have any new friends by then. When I don’t say anything, he keeps talking.

  “I’m surprised you haven’t brought up your birthday yet,” he says. “You’ve usually requested a trip or some big event by now.”

  He’s totally right. Last year we went swimming with dolphins in Florida and I had it planned for months. “I know, but not this year, Dad,” I say. “I’ve been so busy at school and you’ve been really into this project, so I figured we could do something after we leave here.” I pause. “Maybe go visit some friends back home?”

  The word “home” sounds strange as it leaves my mouth. I’m not even sure where that is anymore.

  “Do you ever think about your old school?” he asks.

  I nod. “I’ve been meaning to call Erin and Caitlin. I still miss them.”

  Dad looks sad all of a sudden. “I’m really sorry you had to leave all that behind.”

  We have a lot of mini conversations about this stuff, but they always seem to stop before we get any deeper. This time, I decide to keep going. “I know, Dad. But the other thing we got to leave behind was the sadness. Everything there reminded me of Mom. Everything.”

  Dad grabs my hand as another announcement blares through the terminal. “Some days I think that’s a good thing, and other days I wonder if I took you away from the only place you could have really healed.”

  I’ve wondered that too.

  “But what I didn’t understand then was that I didn’t have to be where Mom was to be reminded of her,” I say. “I think about her all the time. No matter where we go.”

  “Me too,” he says, looking right at me. “And you’re right. There are beautiful reminders of her everywhere.”

  “It doesn’t matter if we’re in the middle of South Dakota—she’s there,” I say. “And I’m really, really thankful for that.”

  Dad takes a deep breath, letting it out as he shuts his eyes. I know that move. When you miss someone more than anything, you have to shut out the real world for just a few moments, or there’s no way on earth to stop the tears from falling.

  I squeeze Dad’s hand and take my own deep breath.

  The guy at the desk makes an announcement calling for preboarders. That’s us. Back to the real world, or at least our world of VIP privileges.

  “How’d I get such a wonderful daughter?” asks Dad.

  And while I’m grateful for his faith in me, I wonder what he’ll think about his wonderful daughter lying to all her friends.

  “It comes from having a wonderful dad.”

  We get in line without another word, but the smile on Dad’s face says it all.

  chapter eighteen

  Saturday morning, while Dad is at work, I write my confession/apology letter to the musical cast and seventh-grade student council of Sagebrush Middle. Then I write it again. And again. But I can’t get it right. How do I tell them I knew all along that I couldn’t finish what I started? With every single sentence, it finally hits me how wrong what I did was.

  I knew I was leaving and I did it all anyway. I justified everything, but it wasn’t fair to anyone else. Maybe I should take Shelby’s offer and slink away quietly.

  I start my fourth rewrite but get interrupted by a text from Ashia.

  Been thinking about this. You need to make things right.

  I know, I text back. Working on it now.

  When she doesn’t write anything else, I take another turn. What was the worst part about what I did?

  I expect her to say that I lied or that I’m going to let everyone down, but she surprises me.

  That you didn’t care what you were leaving behind.

  And with that, I know what I need to write.

  Dear Classmates,

  After you read this letter, you will probably think very differently of me. You might wonder if you ever really knew me. And I want to say first that I do very much care about how you feel.

  When I came to Sagebrush, I hadn’t been to school in three years. My last school was not an ordinary school. My dad and I flew around the country for his job, and he taught me while we were in the air, or in the terminals, or sometimes in hotel lobbies. My life is very different, and I felt different, and I wanted to know what it was like to be a regular kid in a regular middle school.

  The truth is, we’re only here for six weeks. That’s it. I leave in two weeks and I won’t ever be back.

  At first, I thought that was a good thing—I could try all these wonderful middle-school things that I’d normally be too scared to do, and then leave and never look back if it didn’t work out. Because we’re always on the road, I never have to think of anything long-term. And when I’m on the road, it’s always VIP: first class, fancy hotel rooms, backstage passes, celebrity dinners. I know, it probably sounds like I shouldn’t be complaining, and I’m not, really, but even with all that, I don’t have the things you do. And, as it turns out, I really love those things.

  I wanted to see what I could do as a “normal” middle schooler, and I had a plan—at least I thought I did. It wasn’t such a good one.

  So I accepted the lead role in the musical. And I took on co–vice president. And I never said a word. And for that I’m truly sorry.

  But most of all, I’m sorry I acted like I didn’t care what I was leaving behind. I had no idea what I was leaving behind . . . until I got to know all of you. Until you welcomed me and voted for me and came to watch me sing.

  I thought I deserved this chance, because I didn’t know if I’d ever have it again. But now I see that you didn’t deserve this, and I hope that someday you’ll forgive that girl who once upon a time went to school with you for six weeks. Maybe that’s all I’ll ever be in your memories, and if that’s the case, that’s okay. But sometimes we need to seek out the good memories, and maybe you have a few of those of me too.

  It’s all I can hope for.

  Sincerely,

  Kenzie Rhines

  The easy thing to do would be to give in to Shelby and let her win. After all, I’d only have the role of Dorothy for two more weeks before I’d have to give it up anyway. But I’m going to listen to Ashia instead. I need to make this right.

  I attach the letter to an e-mail addressed to Divi. I ask her again to get it out for me, since she has a student e-mail
list from her school newspaper duties. I hit send before I can even read it over. A wave of panic washes over me, followed by relief. Because I do care that I’ll never see these people again. But at least I’ll leave with my head held high.

  * * *

  I’m literally standing on the yellow brick road (okay, so it’s in the museum, not in Oz, but still) when I get the text from Divi.

  So sorry, Kenzie. Our scoop got scooped.

  Huh? I text back.

  Shelby let it slip at a birthday party. News spreads fast.

  Oh no. It won’t be long before everyone knows. Everyone.

  For what it’s worth, she texts, I understand.

  All I can think to say is Thank you.

  “Everything okay?” asks Dad, finally stopping twenty feet ahead of me.

  I stare at my phone. “Um, yeah. But I have to return this message.” Without waiting for a response, I run to the restroom and sit inside one of the stalls, lid down. Still gross, I know, but it’s the least of my worries right now.

  She told, I text Bren.

  And within seconds I get a message back. I know.

  I take a deep breath and let my head and shoulders drop. But when my phone rings, I bolt upright. “Hello?” I answer, without even checking the caller ID.

  “You doing okay, sunshine?”

  “Bren, what am I going to do? Everyone will hate me,” I say.

  “Not everyone.”

  I think I get what he means, but at the same time, I feel like I don’t know much of anything. “Well, Divi did say she understands.”

  There’s silence on the other end of the line.

  “Are you still there?” I ask, pretty sure I said the wrong thing.

  “I’m here.”

  And in those two words, I hear everything I need. “Thank you,” I say.

  “Are you talking to me?” a voice from outside my stall asks.

  “Oh no, I’m talking to someone else,” I say to clarify. Except, by accident, I make it more confusing.

  “The thank-you was for someone else?” asks Bren through the phone.

  “No, the thank-you was for you,” I say.

  Except the woman outside the stall isn’t getting it. “I thought you said you were talking to someone else. Do you need some help?”