Page 102 of Intermission

Gretchen studies me for a long moment. “I’m sorry you’re hurting. Really. The way Mom treated Noah wasnotcool.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that. And I’m sorry I didn’t stick up for you. Not that it would have done any good. I mean, it’sMom. I know how she gets.” Gretchen’s sigh holds the most compassion I’ve ever heard from her. “But you’re a smart girl. If you really want to see him before he leaves, you’ll think of something. You still have three days, right?”

Over breakfast Monday, Mom announces that I am on laundry duty—my assignment toward getting Gretchen and all of her stuff ready to move back in to her sorority house, where we deliver her that night. Once she’s moved in, we do a quick check on Ryan and Danielle’s apartment before driving home.

I climb into bed, exhausted. Just as I’m closing my eyes, Mom knocks on my door, delivering the happy news that there is a fresh list of chores waiting for me on the breakfast table. Lovely. I set my alarm for seven-thirty.

Tuesday morning, I expect Mom to head to work and give me some breathing room in which I can attend her list in peace, and maybe have a chance to call Noah, even if only long enough to say the words I neglected after my voice lesson. But when Mom wakes me up at six, she announces a change of plan. She’s taking me to school registration this morning. After that, I can use the rest of the day to complete my chores.

Oh, joy.

At school, we file through lines, fill out forms, and Mom pays the various activity and book fees. I really don’t see why my presence is necessary. Honestly, her presence isn’t necessary either, since all of this can be done on the school’s website—a fact of which I reminded her on the drive, after I was awake enough to access to my brain.

“It’s tradition,” she said.

I remember her doing it this way with Gretchen even before I started school, so... okay. Whatever.

Finished at last, school supply list in hand, we’re about to leave when the volleyball coach beckons Mom from the door of the gym.

As we head that direction, the coach turns, blows her whistle, and yells, “Take a fiver, ladies!”

“Good to see you!” Coach Morehouse says to Mom and then turns to me. “Excited for the new school year, Faith?”

I shrug. “I guess.”

“Good, good. Janet, I got your message late last week but just remembered it now, when I saw you. Sorry about that.”

“No problem. We were out of town at Ryan’s wedding this past weekend.”

“Oh, right! I think I saw his engagement announcement in the paper a while back. What can I do for you? Please tell me you’ve finally talked Faith into joining the team.” She smiles at me. “I could sure use some of that Prescott power this year.”

“I’m afraid Gretchen was the last volleyball star in this generation of the family. I was calling you about something else. Is it okay if Faith visits with Jenna while the team is on break?”

“Go ahead.”

Thusly dismissed, I enter the gym and locate Jenna, who is chugging water. “Hey.”

“Look, Prescott. If you’re playing on the team this year, you’re gonna need to dress out,” Jenna teases.

“Right. As if you’d want me.”

“Well, there is that.”

“Don’t tell me. Tell yourcoach. Morehouse thinks I’ve got ‘Prescott Power’ or something.”

“Ha! The only power you have on the volleyball court is the power to make us lose.” Jenna grins and takes a long drink from her water bottle. “How was the wedding?”

“Pretty. Nice.” I sigh. “Honestly? It was torture.”

“Because . . . ?”

“All I could think about was Noah. He’s leaving tomorrow, Jen.”

“That sucks. But hey, maybe your mom will finally get off your back.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”