Page 50 of Anything (Mayberry University #1)

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

Tissues are strewn about, as Levi would say, and my eyelashes have been constantly swimming for two days.

Let the Lego guys know to change their song—actually, everything is awful.

I wrote that letter, but I ripped it up.

He can just misunderstand and hate me forever.

It’ll be easier for him to move on this way.

A clear path forward. I’ve spent every minute since that conversation wallowing, even in my classes, which I couldn’t make myself skip.

I’ve experimented with Taylor Swift songs of every era that might succeed as a heart first aid kit.

Spoiler: they don’t. Ayumi has graciously given me a lot of space.

I gather the tissues around me and drop them into the trashcan, hiding the shredded remains of my letter.

Curling back up in bed, I hug my knees and stare out the window.

I waver between crying and scowling, despondent or angry.

When I’m angry, it’s at Levi for existing, for being excessively lovable.

At Aiden. At the criminals tormenting Levi’s family.

At his father for taking out his difficulties on his sons when they were young and vulnerable.

But mostly at myself—for my carelessness last year, for being broken, for dragging Levi around, for missing him so much.

Then I cry because Levi is everything I could imagine wanting and I’m too broken to manage a little trip to Miss Evelyn’s.

I can’t stop thinking about his laugh—warm, rich, and unguarded.

But if it wasn’t impossible enough before, now I know I’m far too much of a liability for his elite family.

I stare at the ceiling and daydream about what it would be like if I could just say yes.

Yes, hold hands, yes, dates, yes, honesty, yes, girlfriend, yes, hugs, yes, closeness, yes, kisses.

I just want to say yes. And then I’m angry again.

I slide off the bed and settle on the floor with my back against the wall under the window.

Cooler air seeps in, and the light is fading, a reminder of how long I’ve been here.

Two days have crawled by since the impossibility of our relationship was doubly confirmed.

I’m still stuck. I know an answer is right there in my Bible, but I can’t bring myself to open it.

My phone rings. Mav on FaceTime. I’ll call him some other time.

Answer it.

My chest warms—God and I are still on speaking terms, even when I’m being a brat.

Okay.

I wipe my face and answer the phone with a perky-ish “Hey, Mav!”

“Kitty Cat!” He’s not fooled. “Hey, talk to me.”

“I broke up with my not-boyfriend.” Sort of. Close enough.

“Oh no. That sucks, Sis. I felt like I was supposed to call you. Guess that’s why.”

That was you, huh?

“I’ll be okay.” Maybe. Probably not.

“Why’d you break up with Not-Boyfriend Dude?”

“I’m too much of a mess to keep him.” He gets more honesty than most because he never sugarcoats the truth.

He couldn’t tiptoe if he needed to get by a sleeping dragon.

Plus, he already knows something happened with Aiden.

Not the specifics, but he lived with me all summer.

For a while he’d silently appear in my room and sit in the corner until I fell asleep.

Actually, he’s the perfect person to talk to right now.

Thanks for that.

“Because of whatever happened last year?” he asks.

“Yes.” I slump against the wall, resting my phone on my knee.

“So rough. What happens now?”

“Nothing happens now. I’ll lie here until my body is covered with tissues like a hoarder with newspapers. They’ll excavate the room in May and archaeologists will tell the story of my downy prison and overall dysfunction.”

“Bleak,” he says. His Hawaiian shirt has chili peppers all over it. I may have dragged him to one too many thrift stores. “So, you’re bawling your eyes out, and I hear old school Tay Tay in the background. It’s time to?—”

“I know, I know. Do something. But this time there’s nothing else to do.”

“Oh, so you mean you’re waiting on God. Even better.”

I blink at him. It’s hard to hear wise things from a sixteen-year-old covered in chili peppers.

“What are you hoping God will do exactly?”

“I need him to fix me.”

“Cool.”

“But he won’t,” I say.

“You mean he hasn’t yet.”

I squeeze my legs closer. “Right.”

“Okay.” He nods confidently.

I glare at him. That’s not what I wanted to hear. At least now I have someone else to be mad at.

“What?” he accuses. “I hate that you’re so bummed.

I kinda want to beat up Not-Boyfriend Dude just for being related to you being this bummed.

But I’m not worried about this, and you shouldn’t be either.

I’ve been watching God take care of you my whole life.

If this guy’s supposed to stick around, God’ll make it happen.

If he’s not, you can trust that God’s plan is better. ”

My little brother’s faith is surpassing my own at the moment. I think the chili peppers just shook their heads at me.

“News flash—Tay Tay isn’t going to tell you anything helpful right now.”

I huff.

“Too preachy?”

“No. You’re right.”

“So … are you gonna trust him?”

A chuckle sneaks out. “I’ll try, Mr. Leadership Qualities.”

He grins. “Can’t wait to see what God does with this.”

“Glad my life can be so entertaining for you.”

“Tune in next week …” Great, it’s his TV narrator impression.

“To see Kit realize how incredible her eldest brother is and lavish praise on him rather than sarcasm.” He sits up, and I know he’s about to imitate my voice.

“Mav, you’re a stellar brother. I wish I had shared more Halloween candy with you.

I left you with only Laffy Taffy and Starburst when you had braces, and I’m all torn up about it.

As penance, I’m going to come home every month and do your chores and write your papers and fan you with a palm leaf. ”

I shake my head. His antics have erased my scowl. I love this crazy kid. “In your dreams. I have enough papers to write. Hey, pray for me?”

“Duh. I wish you were coming home for Thanksgiving. Or that you had warned me. I could’ve bought you a ticket with my chicken money.

” Mav works at Chick-fil-A. He dodges questions about his post-high school plans by saying that he’ll climb the ladder at “the chicken store” until he can be the “Eat Mor Chikin” cow.

“Me too,” I say. “And that’s why I didn’t.”

“I figured. Later, Sis. Sorry it sucks right now.”

“Thanks , Mav.”

I rise to the bed and eye my Bible. My fingers inch toward it, almost on their own, driven by need. I pull the worn leather cover onto my lap and silence the music with a mash on the space bar.

Hey, God?

A verse about peace waves at the edge of my mind. I can’t remember where it is or what it says, so I search the concordance in the back of my Bible for verses with the word “peace” in them. Dozens, but I know the one the moment I turn its soft, crinkly page.

“You will keep the mind that is dependent on you in perfect peace, for it is trusting in you. Trust in the Lord forever, because in the Lord, the Lord himself, is an everlasting rock!”

Keep me in perfect peace. Teach me to trust in you.

Like a broken compass, I’ve been erratically pointing at where I think is North.

Avoid Levi. Warn him. Be brave for him. Push him away.

But what use is an unreliable compass? I can’t be the mastermind of my life.

The desired dominoes don’t cascade anywhere.

God has to be the mastermind. But … to put away my defective compass, I’d have to step off a blind edge and fall, trusting that the descent is part of His design. I shudder.

Trust. Trust you with my friendships, with my next steps, with my future and Levi’s. Trust you to heal me, in all the ways. I’ve done such a terrible job trusting you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

As far as the east is from the west,

so far do I remove your transgressions from you.

I suck in a breath that sounds like a sob. Thank you.

I wedge a pillow behind me and scribble the windstorm in my head into prayers in my journal.

For those who love me, all things work together for good.

My vision zooms out and comes into focus.

Not only did God help me escape that night, but he used it to spark a longing to hear his voice.

Since that pivotal moment, I’ve been chasing him down, head buried in my Bible every morning.

His voice has gradually become clearer as I’ve prioritized him, attentively absorbing his words.

Is this what I needed to make him a priority?

I rub my temples. God is able to stop bad things from happening, but he doesn’t always. Still, he never wastes the bad parts. He doesn’t waste anything.

I write,

You didn’t waste this. You’ve proven yourself over and over. But

I rest my head on the wall and risk a glance out the window at the field to Albert Hall. No Flooders. Some brotherly A2-ers shove each other on their way to their building.

This trust thing. I wish I could sneak in an asterisk. Like, “Yes, God, I’ll trust you.*” And at the footnote comes a list of demands: *So long as you keep me from too much pain. So long as you let me have him back. So long as you heal me soon.

But there are no asterisks with trusting God. Just an outlandish declaration and that terrifying free fall.

I’m always here.

I feel his presence, but I don’t have next steps yet. I just slump in a puddle of blankets and insights. He never gives up on me. He’s been here the whole time. His plan really is the best one. It has to be. I was never meant to be the mastermind of my own story.

“Levi asked me to give you this.” Ayumi holds a package skeptically. “Unless you don’t want it?”

I stare at the cookie as if it will speak up and explain itself before I finally pull out the note—boy cursive.