“Oh my dear, that’s okay!” Mrs. McGrath patted her arm, looking at her husband for his response.
“No problem at all,” he said. He moved to the driver, who had pulled out two bags and dropped them at his feet. The driver tipped his hat at the girl before jumping back into the empty bus and driving away.
“This everything?”
“Yes. I didn’t want to bring too much,” Misti heard herself lie.
“Oh, you couldn’t have brought too much!” Mrs. McGrath touched her again as if to confirm her existence. Anxiety flooded Misti’s face. She took a step back, gripping her elbows in opposite hands. Mrs. McGrath pulled her hand back, blushing.
“Let’s get you home.” Mr. McGrath personified the former football star: well built, with strong-looking arms beginning to sag and a middle to match. He lifted the bags with a huff before leading the way out of the terminal. The girl stood in place, her eyes going towards the bus moving out of sight.
“Come along, dear.” Mrs. McGrath put her arm around the girl. She did not pull away this time. She allowed her aunt to lead her out of the building and to the waiting SUV. They loaded her into the back seat, much like a person who might be in witness protection.
“Are you hungry? We can stop and get something if you’d like?” Mrs. McGrath asked, examining her as she buckled her seat belt.
“I’m okay.”
Mr. McGrath finished loading the bags and got into the car. They rolled out of the parking lot, heading through main street.
It was the most American main street Misti had ever seen—brick shops and American flags flying at every doorway. Misti noted an antique store, a bookstore, a music store, a coffee shop, another antique store, an ice cream shop, and a bistro. It looked as if it belonged in a Disney movie. She watched people walking down the street, stopping and talking to others. Misti noticed an old man reading a paper at the coffee shop, and a little girl in a red dress skipping down the road clinging to a teddy bear ahead of her parents who held hands. She studied a group of teenagers heading into the music store.
Welcome to Blackwood, Colorado! Home of the Fighting Tigers!
No wonder her mother had left this town and never looked back.
“Kids from school like to hang out down here on weekends. Penny, your cousin, can’t wait to take you on a tour and introduce you!” Mrs. McGrath shifted in the front seat. She seemed nervous. “Penny went to school today. She wanted to come with us today, but she had a particularly important test in her AP government class. But she’ll come right after school. We took the day off.” Guilt filled Misti’s chest. “I work at the bank as a teller and your Uncle Bill here works as an electrician. He’s going back to work this afternoon, but I’ll be home all day with you so you don’t have to be alone. I thought we could get your room all set up and then take you to the school to get registered.” She stopped for air, eyeing a group of women wearing walking clothes—tight, calf-length black pants and tighter bright-colored tank tops—all looking exceedingly serious as they swung their arms and wiggled their hips to keep pace with the long-legged and lean leader. Mrs. McGrath smoothed her clothes absentmindedly, touching her hair.
“That’s nice of you,” Misti said, bringing her aunt back into the car. “I don’t want to be a bother.”
“You are most certainly not a bother!” she said, too firmly for Misti to believe. Mr. McGrath had said nothing since starting the drive. Misti wondered if he ever got a word in edgewise. Mrs. McGrath must have caught her tone because she changed the subject. “We couldn’t be happier to have you. Our home is your home.”
The tone shifted. Misti could still sense a hint of tension. Perhaps if Uncle Bill would say something— agree with her—Misti would believe it. But he kept his eyes on the road, a blank face, hands at 2 and 10. Silence fell upon the car and Misti focused on the houses they glided past. Each one occupied two stories with perfect green yards and trimmed hedges. Some houses were white, some blue, some green. Each had been decorated for the fall, with cute pumpkins stacked together with hay and a few miniature scarecrows. Each home had “Welcome” signs instead of broken-down cars.
The house they pulled into fit right in with the rest of the neighborhood: two stories and an immaculate front lawn. The grass had begun to fade around the edges. Orange and white and yellow pumpkins littered the front porch. The door held a wreath of pinecones and leaves and burlap. A large sign leaning against the side of the house said “Welcome!” in a pretty font. It looked like it belonged in a magazine.
“I decorated it myself,” Mrs. McGrath said. The pride in her voice forced Misti to give a small nod of approval. It looked just like all the others they had passed.
Mr. McGrath carried the suitcases in as Mrs. McGrath led the way through the wooden door. Inside, the house smelled clean, with a hint of cinnamon. The floors sparkled, and family pictures hung along the wall. There were four empty hooks on the wall. Mrs. McGrath removed her coat and hung it up. She also slipped off her shoes and put them away. She looked at Misti, who slipped out of her shoes, took off her black jacket and hung it up. Mr. McGrath came in behind them, huffing again. He dropped the cases and let out a loud sigh.
“I can take them now.” Misti moved to the little bag, but Mr. McGrath waved her off.
“It’s okay; she’ll want to give you a tour.”
Mrs. McGrath smiled and then escorted Misti through the hall past the stairs. They entered a large room that served as both the family room and the kitchen. The kitchen sparkled, and the counters contained no clutter. A cream-colored sectional pointed at a large TV, while a fireplace completed the cozy family living space. Misti hated how comfortable this entire place felt. “This is nice,” she said.
Mrs. McGrath beamed with pride. “We spend most of our time in this room. We have all our meals as a family. Most nights, we eat at the island, but for important meals we eat in the dining room.”
The dining room looked over the backyard. Its large table with eight chairs looked brand new. Misti wondered what constituted an important meal.
Misti repeated her words from earlier. Although she knew this was important to her hostess, Misti wanted to go lie down. She had been on a bus for two days, and she had gotten little sleep. She knew she wouldn’t be able to control her emotions on little sleep, and she needed to control her emotions. She couldn’t risk making a bad impression. This would be home for the next eight months until she turned 18.
They continued with the tour, looking over the plain backyard with a little lawn and a shed. It looked unused. They traveled back to the front and Misti noticed a side room set up as an office.
“You and Penny can use that to do your homework. Although the schools give their students computers now, so it just sits empty. Except during fantasy football—then you can’t get Bill out of there.” Mrs. McGrath had relaxed, helping Misti to relax too. They moved upstairs, and she toured the bathroom she would share with Penny. A hair straightener and curler had been left on the counter, along with eyeliner. Mrs. McGrath pursed her lips in annoyance.
“Teenagers! Always sleeping as long as they can; they don’t give themselves time to get ready.” Mrs. McGrath lingered and Misti watched the debate of her wanting to put the items away or just continue with the tour. Mrs. Mcgrath moved down the hall, opening a door. Penny’s room. Not as organized as the rest of the house, but it held a made-up bed and clean floor. She then moved across the hallway and opened another door. “This is your room.”