Overcomer - The Journey by Judy Colella (novels to improve english .txt) 📖

previous evening’s text-fest and the astonishing events at school to explain why she felt the way she did, Celeste sighed. “Look, if you honestly need a new shirt, we can go to Macy’s or The Gap in town, okay?”

“Gee, what a thrill.”

“Okay, fine!” Suddenly irritated by her friend’s insistence, Celeste lost it for a moment. “Go to the stupid mall, but I’m sure not going with you!”

Silence. Then, “Wow. I’m so sorry I called.”

The line went dead. Celeste pocketed her phone, lay back on her bed, and fought back tears. What is wrong with me? Why did I do that? It isn’t Katie’s fault I’m in a rotten mood. She rolled onto her stomach, buried her head in the pillow and wondered whose fault it was.

Unable to work it out, she got up, changed into her pajamas, and turned down the bed. It was only four o’clock in the afternoon, but she was so exhausted that it felt much later. Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland sat on her desk, and she picked it up. Her mother had read it to her when she was six or seven, and she remembered it being a cool story, if a little confusing. The plot thread was easily lost, she recalled, rather like the way a dream wandered in and without rhyme or reason, but that was what the story was about, after all – Alice’s dream.

“Celeste! Tara! Set the table! Supper’s in an hour and I want it done now!”

Gimme a break, Mom! I’m so not in the mood.

Dinner at the Kelly’s was at five-thirty. How much nicer it would have been to lie there and read for a while longer so she wouldn’t have to think about anything else, but nope. Not in this family. Everyone, according to her mom, had a job, and every job had to be done in a timely manner (she hated that phrase). Furthermore, she’d have to explain why she was in her pajamas already.

“Why are you in your pajamas?” As usual, Tara had entered without knocking.

“So I don’t get your blood on my good clothes when I kill you.” She picked up a pencil, holding it like a dagger. “Get out!”

“Crabby.” Tara scowled, but left.

Celeste put the pencil on top of the book, stared at it for a second, and headed downstairs.

“Are you feeling all right? Why are you in your pajamas?”

Celeste grabbed a tablecloth from the buffet drawer before answering. “I’m fine, Mom. A little tired, maybe. I thought I’d relax tonight and wanted to get comfortable.”

“Okay, if you’re s– ”

“I’m okay. Really.”

“Mm. Don’t forget the napkins.”

When the table was set, a chore done in silence for a change because she was too upset to pick on Tara, Celeste returned to her room, dreading the solitude and the dreary thoughts it would invite.

 

*******

 

As Eileen Kelly was setting out the glasses on the kitchen table, someone knocked at the side door – only strangers and people peddling religion used the front. “Must be one of the girls’ friends.” She glanced up at the clock over the stove and frowned, wondering why any of them would be showing up at dinnertime. “How odd.” She went down the short hall leading from the kitchen, saw Katie through the glass-paned door, and opened it.

“May I come in, Mrs. Kelly?”

“Of course! How did you get here?”

“Mom dropped me off. I need to see Celeste.”

Celeste’s sullen attitude earlier… Katie’s uncharacteristic dinner-time arrival… two plus two. “What happened?”

“Nothing… well, yeah. I mean, nothing bad. We had a misunderstanding when we were on the phone before and I’d like to straighten things out.”

Eileen stepped aside, ushering Katie in, and shivered in the icy air that slipped in with her. “She’s in her room. Have you eaten?”

“No – I was too upset.”

“Oh. Well, you’re welcome to join us, then – dinner will be ready in about ten minutes. Assuming everything works out okay, that is.” She smiled and went to the sink. “Go ahead upstairs, hon. I’ll call you when the food’s out.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Kelly.” Katie rushed out of the kitchen.

“That’s weird,” Eileen said under her breath, turning on the water. “Those two almost never fight. Explains the pajama thing, though. I just hope they’re not getting involved in anything they shouldn’t.” She shook her head. These days, she knew, growing up had a whole new set of dangers that her generation would have never considered possible.

Grabbing the coffee pot, she filled it with fresh water. Would things be any better when Tara, who was twelve, reached Celeste’s age?

The sound of the garage door opening heralded the arrival of her husband. She finished measuring decaf into the basket, set it into the coffee maker, and poured water from the pot into its reservoir. “Good. That’s done.”

The door from the garage opened and Donal Kelly, partly obscured by a rectangular box, staggered into the kitchen.

Eileen started toward him. “Need help?”

“Nope. I got this – it’s more clumsy than heavy. Come see.” He maneuvered the box around the table and disappeared into the family room.

“Okaaay.” Eileen grinned and followed.

Donal had placed the box on the coffee table in front of the fireplace. Tara was standing beside him, doing little bounces on her toes, eyes shining, quiet music coming from the far side of the room indicating she’d abandoned the show she’d been watching.

“What is it? What is it?”

“A box! A box!”

“Dad!”

He laughed and opened the flaps.

Leaning a shoulder on the doorframe as she watched, Eileen enjoyed her husband’s boyish glee. “Better not be a leg lamp.”

He frowned. “A what? I – oh, right, like in that Christmas movie! No, my love, not even close.” He reached inside, and amid the crackling of whatever protective packing material was in it, drew out –

Tara shrieked. “It’s awesome!

“My God, Donal, it’s beautiful! But what made you think to buy a harp?”

He brushed a piece of white Styrofoam off the bottom and started to reply, but the sound of pounding feet on the stairs cut him off. He set the instrument on the coffee table, stood back, and gave Eileen a wink.

 

*******

 

Someone was knocking on Celeste’s bedroom door. She frowned – her mother usually said something at the same time as her knock, her father was still at work, and God knew Tara wouldn’t knock if her life depended on it.

Too depressed to do much of anything, Celeste had tried reading another chapter about Alice’s adventures, but visions of Katie never speaking to her again, of Katie ignoring her in school, of her other friends nagging her about what had happened and constant questions to figure out whose fault it was, assaulted her with every attempt to finish reading a sentence. And then someone – what the heck? – was knocking. “Come in?”

The door opened a little and Katie poked her head inside. “Uh, is it okay?”

Celeste slid off the bed, rushed to the door, and grabbed Katie, pulling her into the room. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, giving her friend a hug.

Katie returned it with a quick squeeze and sniffled. “It’s all right – really.”

They separated, teary-eyed. “You’re such a good friend, Katie. Leave it to you to come all the way over here because I was being a… a big jerk.” Celeste hiccoughed and wiped at her eyes.

“You’re not a big jerk. A little one, maybe.”

They giggled, hugged again, and with identical sighs, Celeste sat on the bed, Katie parking herself on the floor against the wall. From the other side of the house came the sound of the garage door rumbling along its tracks.

“Dad’s home.” Celeste smothered a yawn with one hand.

“So what were you doing?”

“Oh. Reading 'Alice'. Or trying to.”

Katie leaned her head back against the wall. “I remember that story from when I was way younger – you?”

“Yup. Well the first time, my mom read it to me, but I’m pretty sure I read it again a few years later.”

“So why do you think Farrell is doing that one with us?”

Celeste stifled another yawn and shook her head. “Because she’s insane?”

“Well, there is that.”

“After today, I know she’s nuts.” Celeste shook her head.

“For real. Any more of that ‘Oh, Cian!’ flirty crap and he probably would have barfed!”

Celeste thought about that for a second, trying to picture it, and couldn’t. “No, not him – he’s too cool to do something so gross and undignified.”

“Yeah. You’re right. By the way, your mom said if everything was okay between us, I could stay for dinner. So is everything okay?”

“Of course it is! You’re my best friend, Katie. No matter what happens, we should never let anything interfere with that.”

“I can stay?”

“No. You have to climb out that window, down the drain pipe, and go home immediately.”

Katie got up and went to the window where she peered down at the shadowy yard two stories below. “Nope. Sorry. You’re stuck with me.”

Celeste laughed and joined her. “You know, I doubt that stupid pipe could hold either one of us.”

“Dang. There goes a perfectly good escape route.”

“And a perfectly good way up, too.”

“Uh, what?”

From downstairs, they heard Tara shriek, “It’s awesome!” and Celeste forgot what she’d been about to say.

“Investigate!” they exclaimed in unison. Zooming out of the room, they headed down the hallway to the stairs. At the bottom, they nearly fell over each other in their rush to get to the family room.

“What happened? We heard Tara – oh, wow!” Celeste had reached the coffee table first, and her eyes went wide. “Dad! A harp?”

“A harp it is. What do you think?”

“Are you kidding? That’s the most beautiful instrument I’ve ever seen. You know I’d always wanted to learn to play one.”

He nodded, grinning. “I remember, which is why I bought it. Not that you aren’t a darn good pianist.”

“We considered buying a harp when you were younger, actually, but couldn’t afford one at the time,” said Eileen. “Of course, we were pricing concert harps. This one is…” She frowned. “What kind of harp is that, Donal?”

“Why, an Irish harp, of course. She’s got twenty-two strings, and is quite old, according to the gentleman who sold her. Joel at the office told me about an estate sale he’d been to during lunch – got himself an almost new set of golf clubs. He said they had a harp there, so I went after work and bought it.”

“Joel.” Celeste tilted her head. “Wait. Wasn’t he here last Christmas Eve for dinner?”

“That’s right,” Donal said. “And you played carols after supper. That’s probably why he told me about the harp. He knows you’re a musician and must have thought you’d like one.”

“Well, he was right. Please thank him for me?” She went around to the side of the table, peering closer, and pointed at something on the harp. “Look at the Celtic scrollwork!”

Katie scooted past Tara to join her. “What’s scrollwork?”

“Looks like your problem has been resolved,” Eileen said, smiling. “Katie? You’re staying for dinner, yes?”

“Yup.” Her smile was as wide as Celeste’s. “Just gotta call my mom and make sure it’s okay with her.”

“Good.” Eileen straightened, “Everyone please wash up. I’ll set an extra place – glad things are good again, you two.” As she headed back into the kitchen, Celeste heard her mutter, “Teenagers…”

THREE

 

 

Thursday. Heavy sigh. Celeste had waded through Geometry II