Love Will Keep Us Together (Miracle Girls Book 4) Read online

  Love Will Keep Us Together

  Love Will Keep Us Together

  By Anne Dayton and May Vanderbilt

  This eBook is licensed for personal use only. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2009 by Anne Dayton and May Vanderbilt

  All rights reserved.

  Unless otherwise indicated, Scriptures are taken from the HOLY BIBLE: NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved.

  First Edition: April 2010

  10987654321

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Anne: For May, who taught me everything I know about writing and most of what I know about friendship.

  May: For Anne, I can safely say I never would have done any of this without you. You make me a better writer, a better person, and you helped me keep the faith. In short, my life was forever changed the day I met you.

  1

  The whole world has gone maroon. The bricks are maroon, the dress code is maroon, and even our peppy tour guide’s hair is dyed a deep maroon.

  “Hi, I’m Kiki, and I’m a real student here.” She grins from ear to ear as she walks backward across the giant lawn. “Welcome to the home of the Harvard Crimson.”

  Pardon me. The whole world has gone crimson. The parents and prospective students around me press forward, following after our tour guide, but I slowly edge toward the back, hoping the rest of my family doesn’t notice.

  The Great McGee Family College Tour is finally winding down, and not a moment too soon. We started off last week at Duke, then drove up to see Johns Hopkins, Penn, Princeton, Columbia, and Yale. This morning we got up early to do MIT, and if I can survive this tour, we’ll check Harvard off the list and only have Cornell to go. Dad and I talked Mom out of Dartmouth. Way too much snow.

  I thought it would be fun to tour colleges, but I didn’t realize everybody was going to ask me the same question again and again: “What do you want to do with your life, Riley?” Or sometimes they stick to, “What’s your passion, Riley?” And I haven’t figured out how to answer them. Somehow, “I have no earthly idea” doesn’t seem to be what they’re looking for.

  “We are now entering the famous Harvard Yard.” The group falls silent, almost reverent, and Kiki stops on the other side of the crimson-bricked archway and waits while we file through. As she recaps the history of the university, which involves a bunch of dead white guys—just like every other school, Mom spies me slouching low at the back of the crowd.

  “Isn’t this beautiful?” She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. “I could really see you being happy here, Riley.” I nod because it’s easier than trying to explain. “Did you know the Latin word veritas on the seal”—she holds out a brochure for me—“means truth?” She flips the brochure open and starts paging through photos of students sitting under autumn trees.

  I put my pointer finger over my lips, then point at Kiki. Mom nods and jogs back to my brother, Michael, who has Asperger’s syndrome, or high-functioning autism. Mom and Dad have done a ton of work to help him with his social skills, but he’s still prone to legendary meltdowns. After the scene he caused at MIT this morning, she’s been watching him like a hawk.

  “This really seems like a good one.” Dad comes up behind me in a sneak attack. I glance across the group and see Michael pulling on Mom’s hand, trying to get over to a statue of a seated man. “These kids seem like your kind of people.”

  Dad and I look around the yard at the students hauling mattresses and carrying plastic crates stuffed with junk. A group lounges on the steps of one of the historic buildings, drinking from eco-friendly metal thermoses.

  I shrug.

  “Do you like it better than Princeton?”

  I try to avoid his stare, but he follows my eyes until I give in and focus on him. In the weak afternoon sunlight, I notice that the gray patches at his temples are spreading through his warm brown hair, like two silver streaks down his head.

  “I don’t know. Princeton was fine.” Princeton is Ana’s thing, her dream. All I could think about the entire time I was there was, How did she choose this school? How did she know it was for her? Is there a feeling you get? Is it like how I knew about Tom?

  Kiki climbs a few steps up to an old brick building and claps excitedly. “Massachusetts Hall is special for two reasons.” She beams at our group and holds up one finger. “First, it’s the oldest building on campus, dating back to 1720.” Everyone in our group oohs, and Mom whispers something to another mother. “And”—Kiki makes eye contact with the prospective students in her pack—“it’s a freshman dorm! Let’s go take a look, shall we?”

  We walk in a tight-knit pack up the stairs and down the third-floor hallway. Everywhere loud music pours from the rooms, the beats and melodies clashing. Finally we stop at a dorm room with two neatly made beds and two tidy desks with crimson folders emblazoned with the Harvard seal. I realize there’s nothing real about this room or this choreographed moment, like almost every moment of every college tour we’ve taken. How am I supposed to get a feel for the campus with these phony experiences?

  As Kiki begins explaining dorm security, I slip out of the room and try to collect my thoughts. This is merely a minor case of butterflies, nothing more. I’m sure everybody gets them when touring colleges. I’ll call Ana, and she’ll talk me through this.

  I rummage through my purse, searching under all the brochures and school spirit junk until my fingers find my phone’s smooth edges.

  Wait, I can’t call Ana. She loved every second of her college tour. When she came back from the East Coast a few weeks ago, she couldn’t stop talking about Princeton’s amazing science labs. Plus, she already knows beyond a shadow of a doubt she wants to be a neonatal surgeon. She had open-heart surgery as a baby and has always felt called to follow the path of the doctors who saved her life.

  Zoe would totally get it. I scroll through my contacts, all the way down to Z.

  But maybe it isn’t fair to call Zo. Her parents are doing better, but money is still tight. She didn’t get to go on a college tour this summer, and I’m not really sure there’s any money put aside for her education. I’d be a jerk to call and complain.

  I scroll back up to Christine. She’s headed to New York next year to become a painter. All she’s ever wanted is to get out of Half Moon Bay. We’ve always understood each other in that way.

  But as I’m pressing the button for her name, I remember that today is Tyler’s birthday and she was going to surprise him with a scavenger hunt through town.

  That leaves one person. I find his name and quickly tap it. “Pick up, pick up,” I chant quietly. I know I shouldn’t be calling my ex-boyfriend, the only guy I ever loved, the one who went off to college and left me behind. All these months I’ve been strong and not e-mailed him, not called him, but I don’t have anyone else right now. He needs to say hello before I regret this.

  “Hey there.” Tom’s deep voice is scratchy, like he just woke up, and it sends a shiver down my spine. The guys at Marina Vista still sound like chipmunks. “How . . . What’s up?” he asks.

  Technically the breakup a few months ago was mutual—technically. I want
to talk to him, but it’s just as friends. He’s already gone through the whole college application process, so he’ll help me get my head on straight.

  “I hate Harvard.” A woman glares at me as she passes down the hall. I lower my voice. “Well, I don’t hate Harvard—that’s not it. My parents love it, and the teachers all love it. Actually, everybody loves it except me.”

  “What are you talking about?” He yawns loudly.

  “I’m on my college tour, standing in the hallowed halls of Harvard right now. Well, a dorm hallway anyway.” Two girls pass me, talking loudly. “They want me to go here, but it doesn’t feel right.”

  “So don’t apply. You’re not like everybody else.”

  I bite my lip. It’s such a Tom thing to say and so exactly what I need to hear. After months of not talking, he still knows exactly how to make me feel better. Tom always put the Miracle Girls on edge, but they never got to see this side of him, the big heart hidden inside his chiseled chest.

  The noisy tour group pours out of the dorm room, and Kiki ushers them out a side door, pointing at some posters on the wall. Mom spots me on the phone and motions for me to rejoin the group.

  “It’s so funny that you called,” Tom says. “I actually wanted to tell you something.”

  The tour group files outside. Dad lingers for a moment, frowning, and then goes with them.

  “I’m transferring to UCSF and moving back to San Francisco.”

  “What?” I press my finger to my ear, trying to block out the noise in the courtyard. That can’t be right. I’ve only just gotten used to him being in Santa Barbara, which isn’t that far, but far enough for him to feel really and truly gone from my life.

  “Santa Barbara wasn’t working out, and now I can live at home and save some cash.”

  My heart begins to pound.

  “I miss my old friends, you know—crazy blond girls who call me out of the blue and stuff. I miss . . . talking.”

  My pulse drums loudly in my ears.

  Mom peeks her head back in the door and widens her eyes at me. “You’re missing everything!”

  “I—” I wave at Mom. “I’ve got to run, but I’ll call you later.” I click the call off before he can respond and chuck my phone back into my purse. He’s coming back? I lean my head against the wall to keep it from spinning.

  “Riley!” Mom plants her hands on her hips.

  “Coming.” I jog over to her and out the door, filing in at the back of the group. I can’t think about Tom now. I’ll deal with that later, once I’m back home and I’ve had time to wrap my mind around the fact that he isn’t gone, that his voice almost sounded like it used to before we drifted apart.

  Kiki yammers on and on about the different types of architecture, pointing out stuff like Doric columns and neoclassical façades.

  It’s not that Harvard isn’t beautiful. The campus is historic and gorgeous and dripping in ivy, and there’s no question that it’s one of the best colleges in the country. If I went here, I’d get a great education, have opportunities I’d never get anywhere else, and meet all kinds of new, fascinating people. . . .

  My mind flashes to Half Moon Bay, the faces of the Miracle Girls.

  I can’t believe that in a year this is going to be my life. This could be my freshman dorm, but looking out over this crowded courtyard, I can’t picture it. I try to imagine myself lounging in the courtyard, heading to fascinating lectures, eating in the dining hall, but my brain refuses. The only life I can imagine is at Marina Vista High, hanging out with the girls, being close when Michael needs me.

  Mom grins at me as Kiki explains how the meal plans work.

  They think I want to go to Harvard, but I don’t. They think I’m excited about this, but I’m scared out of my mind. They think they know Riley McGee, but even I haven’t met the real her. They think I have it all figured out, but I’m totally lost.

  So much for veritas.

  2

  “Wait, you guys!” Ana is laughing so hard she can barely run. The four of us are sprinting to catch the last bit of the sunset. It feels good to run, to feel my legs stretch and pound across the sand, to feel the grains give way softly under my feet. “Slow down!”

  Zoe slows her pace, but I keep on going, pulling far ahead of the others. My legs kick up golden flecks behind me as I run, and it feels nice, just for a moment, to do something I’m good at. I gulp, inhaling deep lung-fuls of salty air.

  The shore is dotted with bonfires, their orange glow bright against the darkening sky. Zoe wanted to celebrate her birthday on this familiar stretch of sand, down the beach from the cliff I fell off of freshman year. She didn’t say so, but I know she chose this spot on purpose. This was where the Miracle Girls really became a we.

  Zoe, Ana, and Christine catch up, and we plop down on the blanket together, laughing and trying to catch our breath. I prop myself up on my elbows. The blanket is some weird woven thing Zoe’s hippie parents got in Mexico a long time ago, and it feels rough under my arms.

  “It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Zoe stares out past the gently sloping shore toward the waves, where the sky blazes a glorious bright orange, staining the high, narrow clouds. We watch in silence as the sun slides lower and lower.

  “It’s a huge ball of fire. What do you expect?” Christine smirks but won’t tear her eyes away from the horizon.

  “I meant this.” Zoe stretches out her arm and gestures toward all of us. “Us. All of it. Who would have thought we’d be closer than ever three years later? That we’d survive high school at all?” She lies back on the blanket and puts her hands behind her head, her auburn hair cascading across the blanket.

  “Do you realize that when we step into that building tomorrow, Ms. Moore is going to be there again?” Ana shakes her head. At the end of sophomore year, our favorite teacher was mysteriously fired, and last year we fought hard to clear her name. Getting Ms. Moore hired again at Marina Vista is the biggest thing we’ve ever accomplished, but after everything she did for us, we couldn’t have done anything less. “How did we even survive junior year without her?”

  Ms. Moore is the reason I met sweet, shy Zoe, bold and brash Christine, and Ana, our fearless leader. One day freshman year, she threw us together in detention, and that’s how the four of us learned we share a secret: we’ve all cheated death. Three years later, we’re still trying to figure out why God spared us, but in the meantime, we’re going through this world together, arm in arm, as the Miracle Girls.

  “I really can’t believe we’re seniors.” I stretch and watch the last few fingers of light disappear. “All those years I couldn’t wait to grow up, and now it feels like it went by too fast. Don’t you wish we could start over and do it all again?”

  “Hardly.” Christine’s voice goes hard, and I cringe. A few years ago, she was in a car accident with her mom, and while Christine emerged without a scratch, her mom didn’t make it. Shortly afterward, Christine’s dad remarried, and Christine acquired a stepmom and stepsister in one fell swoop. She’s had a hard time and probably wouldn’t relive these years for anything.

  “I don’t know about that either.” Zoe digs her toes into the sand. “There are a lot of things I would never want to repeat.”

  I press my lips together. Maybe I’ve been blessed, but am I really the only one who’s not looking forward to the big, bright future?

  “Riley?” Ana’s voice is loud and self-assured. “There’s nothing to worry about, okay? I know your college tours were kind of a bust, but you’re amazing at everything. It’s going to be fine.”

  “Thanks.” I stare out at the ocean and try to steady my breathing. “I’m sure I’ll figure it out. Tom said he went through the same panic when he applied to college.” I’m lost in my thoughts for a moment, thinking about helping Tom move back into his parents’ place in San Francisco last weekend, when slowly the silence grows loud in my ears.

  “So you guys are really talking again?” Zoe tries to smile, but anxiety is written al
l over her face.

  “We’ve talked a few times.” I dig my toes into the warm top layer of sand, wriggling down to the cool layer beneath. “I don’t know if we’re talking.”

  The silence persists, and I have the nearly uncontrollable urge to scream at the top of my lungs. I started dating Tom my sophomore year, and it nearly tore the girls apart. They’ve never really trusted him because he is older and he’s not a Christian, but they never seem to acknowledge the good things about him, like how he helped out when my brother was floundering.

  “Guys, can you trust me here? I haven’t forgotten that he went away to college and stopped calling me.” The stars start to twinkle from above. “He’s just helping me figure some things out.”

  “But we can help you figure out where you’re headed too. Who knows you better than us?” Ana’s face shows a twinge of desperation.

  “That’s what we’re here for,” Zoe says, giving my shoulder a squeeze.

  “Thanks, guys.” I sit up and brush my palms together to rub the sand off. I know the bond that holds us together is strong, special, but this may be the one battle they can’t help me fight. They’re not in college yet, and they already know what they want to do with their lives. “Let’s just focus on making right now count,” I say quietly. “And making this our best year together yet.”

  Something about that word together makes us go silent again. The only noise is the steady crash and retreat of the mighty Pacific Ocean. A few stars are beginning to twinkle in the darkening sky, and the warm, woody smell of bonfires reminds me of camping when I was a kid, when life was simple.

  “I hate to say it, but I gotta get going,” Ana says at last. I nod. Tomorrow’s a big day. The first day of senior year. The beginning of our last year together.