Leap of Faith by Cassidy Shay (nice books to read .TXT) 📖

mom knows you’re okay, instead of spending all day worrying that you’re dead in a ditch somewhere.” I laugh. “Trust me.”
    She dials the number and hands me the phone. “You have to call her. I can’t talk on the phone.”
   “Oh, yeah.” I wait for her mom to pick up. After a couple rings, she comes on the line. 
   “Hello?”
  “Hi,” I say. “This is Mikey, Amia’s friend from school. I just wanted to call and let you know that I have Amia with me, and she's alright." I talk in a hurried voice. I don't know how her mom is going to react, and I don't want her to start freaking out because she's scared for her daughter's safety. "In a couple hours, you’ll get a call from the school.  They’re gonna tell you that Amia hasn’t been at school since first hour.”
   “What? Why?” Her tone is confused, but she doesn't sound worried or angry. I decide to take that as a good sign.
  “Well, she’s having a rough day.” I turn my head so Amia can’t read my lips. “I’m taking her out for ice cream at this place that my mom used to take me. I promise you, she’ll be safe the whole time.”
   She sighs. “Okay. As long as she’s alright." She sounds exhausted, which I assume is why she's allowing this. I don't know many mothers who are okay with their daughters ditching school with a boy she doesn't really know. "Do you know what time you’ll have her home?”
   “Um…. I don’t know. It probably won’t be too late, though. I have to be back for the radio show.”
   “Okay. Thanks for letting me know where she is.” She sighs, and I cut my eyes over to Amia. I guess no one in their house got much sleep last night.  
   I hang up and look at Amia. She’s glaring at me. “You could have at least let me see your side of the conversations, you know.”
   I smile. “But that would have ruined the surprise.” I reach over and turn the radio on for her. She glares at me for another couple seconds, and then she closes her eyes as the music fills the car. The first song is What Life Would Be Like, one of my favorites. I sing along as we cruise down the road.

I consider that I may have over-stepped my boundaries here, since I barely know her. But again, it goes back to this hearing thing. I feel pretty close to her, closer than a lot of people who I would even consider friends. Plus, she started crying in the hallway. I couldn’t just leave her there where everyone could stare at her. These may be poor excuses, but they’re all I have.
   I drive out of the city, into a small town past the outskirts. It takes a little over an hour to get there. We don't talk much, just listen to the radio. I drive through a neighborhood and stop at the fourth house on the left.
   She looks around. “Why are we here?”
   I shrug. “It looked like a nice neighborhood.” She rolls her eyes. 
   "Who are we here to see?" she asks.
   "My Aunt Bailey. Come on," I say. "You're going to love her. And she's going to love you." She stopped crying a while ago, but her eyes are still red and puffy. She looks like she just needs a nap.
   I knock on the door and wait for Aunt Bailey to open it. “Mikey! What are you doing here?” Aunt Bailey is one of my mom's best friends. She opens the door all the way and gives me a hug.
   “Hey, Aunt Bailey.” I motion towards Amia. “My friend’s been having a pretty rough day.” She looks behind her at the clock on the wall. It’s a little after ten.
   “A bad day already? Well, I know just how to fix it. Follow me.” Amia and I follow her inside. 
   I look at Amia. “Brace yourself.” By the time we get to the kitchen, Aunt Bailey is already digging in the freezer. I motion for Amia to sit at the breakfast bar and I grab bowls and spoons. “You are about to taste the best homemade ice cream in the world.”
   She rolls her eyes, and I just smile at her. I put two huge scoops in each bowl and slide Amia’s over to her. Aunt Bailey and I watch as she takes her first bite.
   Her eyes get wide. She shoves another spoonful in her mouth. Then another. Laughing, I put my hand on hers, stopping it in midair. “Slow down. You’ll get a brain freeze.” I take a bite of my own, slowly. She follows my example and eats the rest at a nice, slow pace. The next few minutes are silent as we eat our ice cream. I don't know if it's just me, but she seems to actually start to feel better. She looks better, at least.
   When she’s done, she takes her bowl to the sink. Turning towards Aunt Bailey, she says, “That was awesome. That was the best. Thank you.”
   Aunt Bailey smiles. “Of course, honey. Any time you want ice cream, feel free to come back here.”
   We all sit and talk for a while, and Aunt Bailey looks at her watch. “Okay, guys. I’m gonna have to kick you out. I have a dentist appointment today. I need to take a shower and get a few things done around here before I leave.” She smiles at Amia. "And honey, really, you are welcome over here any time." We say our goodbyes and Amia follows me out to the car.
   “Is she really your aunt?” she asks once I start the car.
   I shake my head. “She’s just my mom’s best friend from elementary school. She’s kind of like a second mom to me. When I was little, my mom had a part-time job at the hospital. She didn’t get home until an hour after school got out, so Aunt Bailey drove to our house each day and took care of me until Mom got home.”
   I’m turning out of the neighborhood now. “Where do you want to go? Home? School?” She shakes her head. “Just let me know. I’ll take you anywhere.”
   She thinks for a minute, looking out the window. It’s a beautiful day, and it hasn’t started to get cold yet. “Can we go somewhere where we can sit outside for a while? I still have reporters camped out in front of my house so I’ve pretty much been stuck inside the last few days.” I nod, understanding how she feels. I don’t have people at my house, but there have been people in front of the station. Of course this doesn’t keep me cooped up inside. So I guess I don’t know how she feels. I’m glad I didn’t say that.

I turn the car in the direction of a park that’s a couple miles away. I turn the car off and she hops out, heading for the carousel.

“I used to be so scared of these when I was little,” she says. “There were some older kids down the street and they would always spin it way faster than I was comfortable with. It was so scary when I’d just start to feel myself move to the outside. I thought I was going to fly off and get killed or something.” She laughs, running her hand over the metal. “I couldn’t stand those kids.”

I don’t really know what to say to that, so I just watch her.

She looks up at the sun and closes her eyes, bathing in the warmth. I sit down next to her, but it’s a few minutes before she says anything else.

“But my dad used to take us to the park, all the time. When we were little, he would take us and push us on the swings, catch us at the bottom of the slide. And when he was around, he wouldn’t let the older kids spin me too fast.”

“Do you ever miss him?” As soon as the words come out of my mouth, I think that maybe I shouldn’t have asked.

She hesitates, and I can tell by the look on her face that she doesn’t want to answer. I’m about to tell her that she doesn’t have to answer when she starts to speak.

“I used to, when I was little. He was a good dad, from what I remember. But I was six. I missed him for a while, until I just got angry at him. And eventually I just told myself that we didn’t need him. That if he ever did come back, I’d never forgive him. And I don’t plan on changing my mind.” She watches my face, and I don’t know if she’s waiting for a reaction or for words.

After a few seconds, I decide to open my mouth and speak. I don’t know if it’ll be the right thing to say, but I figure it’s better than nothing. “Never? That seems a little extreme, don’t you think? I mean everyone deserves a second chance. Everyone deserves to be forgiven.”

She shakes her head. “That’s easy to say when you’re a rich kid with two parents who’s never been hurt by anyone or anything,” she snaps.

“Excuse me?” I yell at her. “You don’t know a thing about me!” Then, I realize that she can’t hear me, so there’s no use in yelling anyway. “You don’t know what has or hasn’t happened in my life. You don’t know who I’ve had to forgive.” I clench my fists. Who does she think she is? “And what makes you think I’m a spoiled rich kid?”

She just laughs. She laughs. I’m about to snap at her again when she speaks. She looks up at me, and I can see the hurt in her eyes. It’s that same hurt, that same sadness, that I saw in her picture just the other day. “Alright then. Tell me. Who’s hurt you? What’s so bad that’s happened in your life? Give me something, and I’ll consider forgiving my dad.”

I think for a few minutes. And the longer I think, the more I realize how great my life is. Sure, not everything is perfect. But I have two parents. I have a house, a car, and everything I’ve ever needed. I don’t have any real complaints about my life. None at all. She was right.

There was a chance that she could have been wrong, because she doesn’t know me. But she got lucky. She’s right. I’ve never had to forgive anyone for anything. No one’s ever done me wrong.

I look down at my hands, and then back at her eyes. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

She just shrugs. “It’s okay. It’s life.”

We sit for a while longer, and then we start talking about other things. We talk about her old friends, the ones from her old school. It seems to make her sad, and she tells me that she’s not very good at keeping in contact with people. “I’ve only talked to one of them this week. And I didn’t talk to her for very long. I don’t know what to say, so I just kind of don’t say anything,” she says.

I tell her stories about when I was little, hoping to make her laugh. It’s the least I could do, after yelling at her earlier.

Throughout the conversation, I can’t help but feel sorry for her. I haven’t known her very long, but I’ve learned that she’s really not a happy person. She almost always has something negative to say about anything. Basically the only time she even seemed like she was in a genuinely good mood was that first conversation, when she could hear me. And that