“That’s it,” Mom said. “That was the last time I saw him.”
“I thought you said he was a good man.” I felt my voice getting louder and the blood pounding in my temples. “He was nothing but a jerk.”
“I still think he was a good person, Anna. He just wasn’t ready to deal with … a pregnancy. He was kind and nice to me. He didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to.”
“But he left you when you needed him most.”
“I let him.”
“Why?” I said.
“I don’t know. I just did. If he didn’t want to be a part of what was going to happen, then I wasn’t going to make him. I would have been dealing with an ugly person—and his family. I didn’t want warring families. That would have been too much. I feel better thinking of your father as a good person.”
I shifted in my seat and tried to calm myself. We were quiet for a minute before Mom spoke again.
“Are you ready for the rest?” she said.
I sighed, still not happy, but I nodded. How much worse could it get?
“I didn’t tell my parents I was pregnant right away. A girl can be sneaky and hide that sort of thing if she wants. I’ve heard stories of people not knowing a girl was pregnant until she goes into labor and delivers the baby. That wasn’t me. I didn’t tell right away because I was scared, but I didn’t try to hide it once I started showing either. I loved you from the very beginning and was never going to be ashamed of you. Your grandparents didn’t handle it well, though, so I never told them who the father was. I didn’t see any good coming out of it. My parents were ashamed and wanted me to put you up for adoption.” Mom looked over at me. “And then I was met by an angel.”
Now I looked sideways at Mom. What was she talking about?
“That’s right, an angel,” she said.
I nodded, but with my eyebrows scrunched. Mom drove along at a Sunday driver’s pace, neither of us in any hurry. There was no need to rush a conversation that had been waiting since my birth.
“Miss Leila Mae was a lifelong friend of my grandmother’s. She was a sweet old woman living all alone. Well, she heard about what was going on—people talk in small towns—and she came and found me. Miss Leila Mae insisted that if my grandmother had still been around, she would have helped me. Since Grandma wasn’t around, Miss Leila Mae took it upon herself to help us.”
I tried picturing Miss Leila Mae. I thought of her as a short, plump woman with wavy white hair. I bet she smelled of pie, too. And she probably liked to touch you when she talked to you.
Mom continued, “I started staying with Miss Leila Mae before you were even born. I slowly moved all my things over to her place. Maybe if your grandparents had seen you—just once—things would be different. Babies can change people. They can make miracles happen because babies are miracles. Just look what Asher did for Jeffrey’s family.
“We stayed with Miss Leila Mae for the next two years. She helped care for you while I completed my GED. When I say I have a GED, people automatically think I must be stupid. But really it was just the result of our situation. The classes were a piece of cake for me and I breezed through all of it. I was actually a very strong student in school.
“During this time my parents sold the house and moved south. Some of the money from the sale arrived in the mail one day. I’m still thankful for that, but that was the end of the help and communication from your grandparents. I haven’t talked to them since.”
I sat still, staring out the window as we drove down the road. The air felt thick and heavy around me. And it felt like my heart was beating harder and slower. I was listening to the story of my beginning.
“Anna, Leila Mae couldn’t have children of her own, so she thought of us as the children she never got to have. I thought of her as our guardian angel. I have no idea what would have become of us if it weren’t for her.”
“What happened to her?” I asked.
“Miss Leila Mae passed away just after your second birthday. She died in her sleep one night. In her will she left us her house and all her money.”
“Do you mean the house we live in used to be Leila Mae’s home?”
“Yes,” Mom said.
Wow! I thought. Miss Leila Mae did sound like an angel. We drove past the old airport, site of the Snow Hill Carnival that everyone was beginning to talk about. It was a highlight for our entire community. Seeing it made me think of Danielle and her family. They were among the leaders behind the carnival and were already beginning to work hard to organize and prepare for it.
“What about Charlie?” I said.
“He knows.”
I scooched up in my seat, shocked. “What do you mean he knows?” I said, looking at Mom again.
“He knows everything. Like you, he wondered about money and how we were managing. He wasn’t trying to be nosy. He was asking out of concern, and wanted to help if he could.”
Mom paused while she slowed down and turned onto our road. “The money from Leila Mae and from your grandparents allowed me to stay home with you until you started school. In those early years I was lucky—I only had to worry about being your mom. We were able to spend a lot of time together.”
Lucky, I thought. How many people on the outside thought of us as lucky? Mom was right, though. I felt lucky. I have for a long time. I have the best mom.
“Charlie says we’ve renewed his faith. He thinks our story is what the Lord is all about. He thinks we know more about faith than most people who go to church every Sunday. He says his family, except for Grandma Evelyn and Grandpa Alfred, has learned to forgive because of us. Maybe that’s part of what the Lord intended.”
Mom pulled into our driveway. I looked at our house and wondered if Miss Leila Mae was inside, waiting for us. Thank you, Leila Mae. Thank you.
april
The Snow Hill Carnival comes to town every two years. It takes place at the old Snow Hill Airport. The airport hasn’t operated for a few decades, but it’s the perfect place for a carnival because it’s one gigantic flat piece of land that can fit all the carnival equipment plus a parking lot. At the back of the field is a hill that leads up to another smaller plot of land where you find Snow Hill Pond, site of this year’s first annual Float Your Boat Contest.
The Snow Hill Carnival wasn’t a big deal just for our school, but for the whole community. It was a big deal for my family. In some ways, I think it could have been better named a fair, but when it first came to Snow Hill long ago, it came as a carnival. It had changed a lot over the years—now many local businesses participated by running concession stands, and there were church-related and farm-related tents and all sorts of contests—but the carnival title has stuck.
My family got involved in many ways. Dad and Charlie worked with other farmers to prepare the site. They had to mow the fields and clear away any debris that might have accumulated since the last carnival. They helped to set up all the signs and ropes and Porta-Potties. They were there to assist the carnival people when they arrived. Grandpa always said the getting-ready part was way more work than the rest of it. He’d spend a month getting ready and the carnival would be here and gone in two days.
When it did finally start, my family kept just as busy. Grandma and Mom organized all sorts of baking and flower contests. And Grandpa, Dad, and Charlie took care of the cow shows and horse pulls. Grandma and Mom judged the contests, and Grandpa served as the announcer for the horse pulls. The horse pulls were the main attraction on the second night. The first night was always packed just because it was the opening.
The weather had Grandma and Grandpa stressing more than usual this time around. Stressing about the weather was normal for any farmer, but usually it was because of the crops, not a carnival. It had been raining more than normal for most of April, though. And everybody was getting nervous that this year’s carnival would be rained out. We did a lot of praying leading up to the event, and it paid off, because the skies cleared for opening night. The parking area bec
ame a muddy mess because the ground was still soggy, but that didn’t matter.
The only bad part was I had my period again. This was my fourth time. I was still getting used to the whole thing. I had gotten cramps in March and was desperately hoping to skip those this month. I usually got grouchy, too, which Mom told me was normal. I was thinking the carnival would help me forget about my period and everything to do with it.
The Snow Hill Carnival was such a big deal that we only had a half day of school that Friday—opening day. All Snow Hill businesses closed early. Everyone in our community looked forward to the event, and by three o’clock, there was a population density at the carnival that made you feel like you were in a major city.
Our Float Your Boat Contest was scheduled to begin at four o’clock. Portable stadium lights lit up Snow Hill Pond and the parking field below us. The water in the pond was much higher than normal because of all the rain we’d had, but that didn’t matter for our competition.
We stood in our groups next to our vessels. Each boat had a piece of bailing twine tethered to it so it could be pulled back to shore after being tested. Mr. Terupt wore a pair of chest waders so he could get right in the pond and guide our boats away from shore and into the deeper water. Each group was assigned a number designating the order in which we’d attempt to float our creations. We were number eleven, the last ones—an advantage I liked. More community spectators than I ever imagined joined us for this first-ever contest. When it was finally time to get started, Mrs. Williams unveiled a megaphone for announcements.
“Boat number one!” she hollered.
That was Ben’s group. Mr. Terupt guided their boat into the deeper water and gave it a push. It dove straight to the bottom. They had built a submarine!
“Boat number two!” Mrs. Williams yelled. It sank.
“Boat number three!” Her voice hadn’t lost any enthusiasm. This one floated like a rock, sinking the fastest of all. There were murmurs among the crowd and doubtful faces all around the pond, but I was optimistic for boat number four. It belonged to Theo, the smartest kid in Mrs. Stern’s class.
“Boat number four!” Mrs. Williams called out.
Mr. Terupt gave Theo’s creation a shove.
“Hey, it floats!” someone from the crowd yelled.
“Congratulations!” Mrs. Williams yelled.
Enthusiastic cheering and applauding echoed from the hill. That was followed by boats number five through ten, which all found the bottom of the pond like the first three.
“Boat number eleven!” Mrs. Williams announced. “Our final group.”
Mr. Terupt nudged our boat away from shore and we watched it float to the end of our twine. Thunderous clapping and whooping rang from the hill. Everyone in our group bumped fists, even Lexie and Derek. There was no fooling around. We all wanted to win. It was us and Theo. Time to add the weight.
Theo had the unfortunate luck of going first. Farmer Wilson took a fifty-pound bag of sand and settled that on the center of Theo’s boat.
“One-two-three,” Mrs. Williams counted. Then Mr. Terupt shoved Theo’s boat back out. Mrs. Williams started her stopwatch, timing how long the boat stayed afloat. After nine seconds the exterior bottles were beginning to lift off the surface and stick into the air. I knew this was because the middle was sinking. It was just like the way the Titanic had an entire end lift up out of the water before it went under. At the twelve-second mark Theo’s boat was disappearing. By fifteen seconds it was submerged.
“Let’s hear it for boat number four,” Mrs. Williams shouted. A chorus of hoots and hollers followed, but I was busy thinking. My boat was destined for the same fate unless I came up with something fast. Mr. Terupt and Mrs. Stern pulled my boat over. Farmer Wilson slung the bag of sand over his shoulder and walked toward us.
“Wait,” I said. “That bag’s fifty pounds, so if we float something heavier, we’ll still win, right?” Our teachers and Mrs. Williams all looked at each other, then shrugged in agreement. “Okay. You can put that down,” I said to Farmer Wilson. “Peter, I need your help.” I asked Peter because he seemed like the right size, and because I knew he liked daredevil stunts. I also knew this was his chance to impress Lexie. Peter came over, not knowing what I had planned. I whispered my idea to him, and he nodded.
“Why not?” he said. Peter walked over to my boat and lay down on it, face-up. He had his arms and legs spread wide, which I promised would keep him from sinking. His butt rested in the middle, where the bag of sand would have gone. We shoved him out into the water.
After thirty seconds of successful floating and no signs of sinking, my group was declared victorious. We started pulling Peter to shore. Why hadn’t Mrs. Williams shouted for us over the megaphone? I wondered. When I looked over at her I found out why.
Mrs. Williams had put her megaphone down and had picked up a nice-sized rock. She smirked and tossed her rock into the pond. It landed right next to our boat, scaring the bejeepers out of Peter, who had his eyes closed and never saw it coming. He yelled and jumped and tipped the boat. Over he went. The hill didn’t ring with applause after our victory, but with roaring laughter. The kind of laughing that made your belly hurt.
Peter scrambled to shore and climbed out of the water. Mrs. Williams met him and offered him her hand. “Now we’re even,” she said. Peter smiled. Then he smiled even bigger when Lexie gave him a towel and celebratory hug.
Our group was presented as the first-ever Float Your Boat Contest winners. Each of our schools had a brand-new plaque to be displayed that would list the names of the victors year after year. Ours would be the first names ever added. That felt pretty cool. In addition to the plaque, Mrs. Williams also announced that each member of the winning group had earned a pass granting us free rides at the carnival for the night. Awesome! It was also what I had promised to give Peter if he agreed to help me by lying down on my boat. Definitely one of my better bribes.
After the awards presentation everyone scattered. It was time for the carnival. Mr. Terupt, Mrs. Stern, and Mrs. Williams stood together at the edge of Snow Hill Pond looking pleased. It was the first time I’d ever seen a happy expression on Mrs. Stern’s face. The first-ever exchange program got off to a rough start with Jeffrey’s fists, but there was plenty to smile about in the end.
QUESTION
—Will the rest of my night be as memorable as winning that contest?
Detective Luke
Mrs. Williams got me good. I was flat on my back, floating on Luke’s boat, helping my good buddy out. I had my eyes shut tight the entire time, begging the boat to stay upright. That’s why I didn’t see it coming when Mrs. Williams tossed a rock my way. The splash was bad enough, but it scared the snot out of me. I jumped and the boat tipped. I leaned the opposite way as fast and hard as I could, which was a big mistake. The whole thing flipped right over and I went under.
Of course everyone thought it was hilarious. Jessica couldn’t stop laughing. At least she didn’t let out one of those rotten girl farts like Lexie did back in the summer. I made my way back to shore, where Mrs. Williams was waiting for me. I was completely soaked. I was expecting to hear her say “I’m sorry.” But instead she said, “Now we’re even.”
I shivered and smiled. Guess she wasn’t feeling bad for me anymore. I felt lucky and upset all at the same time. Lucky because I knew I had the best teacher in the world and lucky because I knew Mrs. Williams had to be the best principal you could hope for too. And upset because I’d be graduating and moving on in a couple months.
Luke celebrated his victory with the other dudes in his group, but Lexie came over to me with a towel.
“Thanks, Peter,” she said. She gave me a big hug in my soaking wet clothes. “You’re the hero,” she whispered in my ear. When she let go and stepped back, I didn’t know what to say.
During the awards presentation I ran to change behind one of the tents. I wasn’t going in any Porta-Potties. Those things are nasty. Mrs. Williams had brought extra c
lothes from school, just in case. When I made it back, the ceremony was wrapping up.
Derek and Jason and Lexie found me. Derek stuck his hand out. “Sorry about the whole snowball thing,” he said. “Mrs. Stern filled us in on what we didn’t know.”
I shook his hand and nodded. “We’re cool,” I told him.
Derek turned to Lexie next. “I’ve been wondering all afternoon. What happened to your—”
“I decided you aren’t worth the bother,” Lexie cut him off. “Besides, I’m interested in someone else.” Straight-faced, Lexie didn’t flinch. She grabbed my hand and off we went. Time for the carnival. I hadn’t even been on a ride and I’d already lost my breath.
FADE IN: Aerial view of the Snow Hill Carnival. We see the vast field adjacent to the carnival where hundreds of cars are parked. Headlights are still turning into the lot and driving down muddy paths between the rows of vehicles, looking for places to park. Towering portable stadium lights have been brought in to illuminate the parking area and the pond that rests up over the hill next to the field. They shine brightly now as dusk settles in. It is Friday evening—opening night of the carnival—and virtually everyone from Snow Hill School is in attendance. The aerial view spans over the carnival and we see the bright, rainbow-colored flashing lights advertising the typical carnival attractions. There’s a plethora of food tents, everything from fried dough, cotton candy, and snow cones to pizza and burgers. There are games of every sort: water pistols, darts, ring tosses, and more. And then there’s the midway. The aerial view zooms in on some of the main attractions. We see the Ferris wheel, the Tilt-A-Whirl, and the long line that has already formed for the roller coaster, the Torpedo.
JESSICA VO
The Snow Hill Carnival is not an amusement park—far from it. The roller coaster (which is always my favorite) tells it all. At an amusement park you get the upside-down, backwards, loop-the-loop, super-fast coasters. Here at the carnival you get the old iron clunker that just races you around the tracks. The Torpedo isn’t even outfitted with chest harnesses. The only thing required to hold you in is a metal lap bar that you pull down over your thighs and share with the person sitting next to you. However, despite the less than top-notch rides and attractions, the Snow Hill Carnival has more energy and excitement than any amusement park I’ve ever visited. I’ve been told the carnival is the biggest thing that happens in Snow Hill every two years, and now I believe it. The place is full of people I know—my entire class, including Mr. Terupt and Ms. Newberry (though technically she’s not from my class), and everyone else from school. There are our exchange partners, as well as all the people from the community and beyond who I don’t know. The place is packed!