Chapter 7
After my presentation, Dr. Ellis invited questions.
An older student asked why I had tested water after a storm. I told him how the creek changed color whenever heavy rain washed through our neighborhood. A woman near the back asked what I would measure next.
I knew that answer. I wanted to compare samples from farther upstream.
When it was over, Caleb met me in the aisle.
“You paused for about three seconds,” he said. “It felt dramatic. Keep it.”
I shoved his arm gently. He showed me a photograph of me speaking, my hands lifted toward the chart.
Dad hugged me. Ava asked if she could have the first copy of the photo. Vanessa waited until the others finished.
“You made your work easy to understand,” she said. “I didn’t know so much could change after rain.”
I had worried she would say only that I spoke nicely. I was glad she had listened to what I said.
“Thanks for coming,” I told her.
We ate lunch together in the campus dining hall. Ava thought the desserts looked better than the ones at her school. Caleb asked Lila about the classes, and she told him she had learned how to make him stop teasing me by asking him to solve one of our practice problems.
Vanessa laughed with the rest of us.
For an hour, we were comfortable. When they got ready to leave, I felt the old worry return. I didn’t know what the house would feel like when I went back.
Dad walked with me toward my residence hall.
“Can I ask you something?” I said.
“Always.”
“Are you and Vanessa getting back together?”
“We’re meeting with a counselor. We’re talking. We haven’t decided.”
“Is it because I invited her today?”
“No.” He stopped so he could face me. “You’re allowed to have your own relationship with her. You don’t have to carry ours.”
I watched Ava and Caleb farther down the path with Vanessa. Ava was showing her where she had found a smooth stone.
“I want them to be okay,” I said.
“So do I. I’m making sure they have time with her. Caleb’s old enough to tell me when something bothers him, and I’m listening to Ava too.”
I nodded.
Dad touched the strap of my bag. “How are you doing with her?”
“She apologized. I’m trying to believe she’ll keep telling me the truth.”
“You can take your time.”
When they left, Lila and I went back to class. I was sad for the rest of the afternoon, but I had work to do and friends to sit with at dinner. That evening, I called Ava to ask about the drive home.
“Mom let us choose the music,” she said. “Dad sang the wrong words.”
“He always does.”
“Are you coming home soon?”
“Two and a half weeks.”
“I’ve kept your seat at the table.”
My eyes stung. “I’ll sit there when I get back.”
During the fifth week, our group prepared the final project. Lila wanted to compare two parks. I wanted to use the creek data. We argued in the lab because neither plan left enough time for the other.
I almost gave in just to end the argument. Then I remembered how frustrated I felt when adults made decisions without asking what mattered to me.
“Can we find a question that uses both?” I asked.
We stayed late with our instructor and changed the project. We tested runoff from the park paths into a stream near campus. Lila designed the comparison. I organized the samples. The other students took turns collecting data.
It was better than either plan alone.
I called Dad afterward.
“I disagreed with somebody, and we worked it out,” I told him.
“That sounds like a skill worth bringing home.”
I knew he meant more than the project.
The next Sunday, Vanessa answered when I called for Ava.
“She’s outside with Caleb,” she said. “They’re planting flowers at my place.”
I heard a door close as she went to get them.
Before she called out, she said, “I asked the counselor for help talking with Caleb. He told me he was afraid of making me angry when he found the letter.”
I waited.
“I told him I was wrong to make him feel responsible for keeping quiet. He said he needed time.”
“I think he does.”
“I’m giving him that.”
Ava came to the phone then, breathless and proud of the flowers. I listened to every detail. When Caleb took his turn, he told me he and Vanessa had gone to his soccer match the day before.
“She stayed for the whole thing,” he said.
“How did it feel?”
May you like
“Good,” he admitted. “A little strange. Mostly good.”
When we hung up, I took out another paper star. I had only one left in my bag.
