Anything but Normal - Melody Carlson [48]
“Well, I’m glad someone likes it.”
Mrs. Manchester nodded in an understanding way. “You rocked the boat a little?”
“Seems like that’s what I do best.”
“That’s because you’re a real newspaperwoman.” This came from Mr. Young.
“I was just telling Sophie thanks for writing that piece.”
“You might not be thanking me next week.”
“What happens next week?” Mrs. Manchester asked.
“Hopefully nothing.” Sophie frowned.
“What do you mean?” Mr. Young seemed interested now.
“Well, I just heard that Kelsey North’s mom wasn’t too thrilled with my article, and now she’s organizing some kind of meeting.”
“For what purpose?” He waited expectantly.
“My guess is to discuss the school’s pregnancy center.”
Mrs. Manchester looked worried. “Oh dear.”
“When is this meeting scheduled?” Mr. Young asked.
“Saturday.”
“Who’s invited to come?”
“I’m not sure.” Sophie thought for a moment. “But it’s at our church, and I’d think that anyone would be welcome.”
“I wish I could be there.” Mrs. Manchester sighed. “But I’ll be out of town for Thanksgiving.”
Mr. Young slapped his forehead. “That’s right. So will I.”
“Maybe we should schedule another meeting,” Mrs. Manchester suggested. “A town meeting. Maybe we could have it during the following week.”
“Great idea,” Mr. Young said. “We could get some media coverage too.”
The next thing Sophie knew, they were planning a meeting and she was agreeing to participate. Great, what would her friends think of her now?
“It was so nice of the Vincents to invite us for Thanksgiving,” Mom said as Dad drove them across town. “It would’ve been lonely just the three of us this year.”
“You did tell them that they have to have the TV on, didn’t you?” Dad said.
“Carrie Anne knows that Bart has a ball game today,” Sophie told him. “She promised that we’d watch it.”
“Otherwise I’ll be heading straight for home,” he announced.
“I think you’ve already made that perfectly clear.” Mom glanced back at Sophie. “Your father is such a social butterfly.” “I refuse to miss my own son’s football game.”
Sophie smiled. “Don’t worry, Dad, Pastor Vincent likes football too.”
“That’s another thing,” Dad growled. “Eating with church people—the pastor of the church even.”
“Oh, Dad!”
“Mind your manners, Bud.” Mom reached over and thumped him on the forehead.
“That means don’t touch your food until Pastor Vincent is able to say a blessing,” Sophie reminded him.
“And put your napkin in your lap,” Mom said.
“And hold my little pinky finger when I drink my tea?” he said.
“Just be nice.”
Dad parked in front of the Vincents’ house, and they got out of the car. “It looks like they’ve got more than just us for dinner,” Sophie said.
“Yes.” Mom handed a casserole dish to Sophie. “Darlene said they have some good friends joining them today.”
Sophie froze. “Good friends?”
“What’s the matter?” her dad teased. “You’re suddenly turning into a social phobic like your old man?”
“Come on, Sophie,” Mom called. “I don’t want those yams to get cold.”
Sophie’s feet felt like cement blocks as she trudged after her parents to the front door. Please, please, please, she actually prayed—for the first time in months—please, please, please, God, don’t let it be the Morrises. And if it is, don’t let Dylan be there. Please, please, please!
“Hey, Sophie,” Carrie Anne chirped as she let Sophie and her parents into the warm house. “Guess who’s here?”
Sophie felt faint. And hot. She shoved the casserole toward Carrie Anne. “This is supposed to stay warm.”
“Let me take your coat, Sophie,” Mrs. Vincent said.
Sophie didn’t want to remove her coat, didn’t want to stay, wanted to think of some excuse to dash off, but Mrs. Vincent, the consummate hostess, was already peeling it off.
“The fellows are in the den, Bud,” she told Sophie’s dad. “Watching football.”
“I’ll bet they’re not drinking brewskies,” he whispered to Sophie as Mrs. Vincent disappeared with their coats.
“Be good,” Mom said sharply.
“Want to watch the game too?” Carrie Anne asked Sophie. “It’s not your brother’s game yet. But the guys are in there.”
“I’ll