Just Friends

By Carol Joyce

As the school year comes to a close, Melissa Rose Hartley wishes school were over and her summer at Southern Shores were underway.

Frustrated with the boys at school, Melissa Rose vows to never get involved with any boy, everuntil she meets Flynn.

Melissas adventures take her to faraway places, involve her in the neighborhood mystery, lead her to a hidden treasure, and send her stepping into a blissful friendship.

Join Melissa Rose as she finds fun and adventure at her beloved summer home in Southern Shores.

Author Carol Joyce shares the adventures she had growing up at the old shore home and the importance of developing friendships with boys in this inspiring story for young adults.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Nov 8, 2011
• ISBN: 9781449729707

Carol Joyce

Carol Joyce earned her bachelor’s degree in elementary education from York College, followed by a Master’s in Reading from McDaniel College. More recently, Joyce completed a study with the Professional Children’s Writing Program through the Professional Career Development Institute. Just Friends continues with the adventures of Melissa Rose that began in Joyce’s first book for young adults, entitled Beads of Change and published in 2009. At home in rural Maryland, Carol finds time for her writing passion, away from the hustle and bustle of life. Her books are aimed at helping young people navigate through life as a preteen and into the teenage years. She also visits schools, where she loves speaking to young adults concerning the importance of mastering writing skills as she shares a message of hope through the characters in her story. Now retired from teaching, Joyce follows her dream of being a full-time writer. “I feel Beads of Change is a very relatable story for girls Missy’s age. The descriptive choice of words flows beautifully.” —Juliana Camponeschi, age 14.

Book preview

Just Friends

Carol Joyce

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Copyright © 2011 Carol Joyce

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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ISBN: 978-1-4497-2971-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4497-2972-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4497-2970-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011960126

Printed in the United States of America

WestBow Press rev. date: 11/04/2011

Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Dedication

I wishes to thank my father, William Anthony Belli, Aunt Irma (Belli Zeisel), Uncle Bob (Zeisel) as well as my grandmother, Elsie Morsberger Belli, all of which have been an inspiration for this book. Thanks for giving me the gift of spending time at the old shore home, on Middle River in Maryland. Memories of my time there are forever etched in my heart.

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In memory of

Bill Belli and Irma B. Zeisel

Chapter One

I OPEN THE BACK DOOR and toss my book bag on the table, bursting to tell Mom about Ben. You should have heard his speech, Mom. This guy had everyone sitting on the edge of their seats. The things he said were unbelievable. He even talked about praying and asking God for help. I can’t believe he said those things in front of the whole school. At an assembly! It was great! I think he was really bold to share his story.

Mom looks up from the mixing bowl— I hope she’s making cookies—and smiles. Hello to you, too. So who is this wonderful speaker?

I try to get a taste of the cookie batter, but she pushes my hand away, so I head for the refrigerator and take out a glass of tea instead. Mom’s a good listener, even to someone nearly thirteen years old, like me. Well, he’s a senior in some school on the Eastern Shore. I guess he’s about Luke’s age. His name was… um… I forget. Ben something or other. Anyway, he started out by singing songs he’d written and playing his guitar. He has an amazing voice! It was like listening to a story set to music. He’s had so much happen to him. I plop down at the table.

Like what?

When he was eight, both of his parents died in a car crash.

That makes Mom stop stirring. Oh, dear.

He was in the car with them when it happened. For years, he had nightmares of the crash. For a while, Ben thought it was his fault, because he was goofing around in the back seat and his dad turned around to get him to stop… just when a tractor trailer swayed into their lane. I pause and take a breath. He watched his parents die. Mom shakes her head. He didn’t get hurt, but his sister had to go to the hospital. She hardly remembered any of the details. I guess that’s good. Afterward, Ben and his younger sister went to live with their aunt, uncle and seven cousins in another town. Then, two years ago, his only sister died at age fourteen. She had been fighting leukemia, some kind of cancer, for about three years. I would have gone crazy, wouldn’t you, Mom?

That’s a lot for anyone to endure, let alone a kid.

I nod. Yeah. He tried to commit suicide last year.

How terrible. Mom joins me at the table, waiting to hear the rest.

I have to tell you Mom, you could have heard a pin drop in the auditorium. People were blowing their noses and wiping their faces. I could have listened to him all day long, because the way he told his story just broke my heart. I can’t explain it, but something was very different about him. It’s like God touched him in a special way. You can tell he wants to help people. I reach into my book bag and pull out the hand-out he gave everyone. I look at his picture, then glance up at Mom. I wonder if he’s on Facebook! I turn around and reach for the computer keyboard and type Facebook into the address bar. I keep talking as I waggle the mouse. I sure don’t know any boys around here who want to talk about their faith. I think I’ll just ask God to send me someone just like this Ben guy—blonde hair, blue eyes and all! I point to the picture that came up on the screen. See? Nice, huh?

Now Missy, be realistic. Do you think the Lord is a fairy godmother, and can grant your every wish?

No, but it would be fun to try.

Mom just laughs at me. In fact, we both have a good laugh about my dream guy. But silently, I pray, just in case.

From peaceful and calm to the eye of a tornado, that’s how quickly things can change in our house. My older brother, Luke, storms into the house, slams the kitchen door and throws his backpack across the room. He aims for the couch, but misses. I watch the backpack fall to the floor, shaking my head. I step back and stand by the table, eyes glued to my brother, trying to figure out what’s eating him this time. Luke just glares at me.

What are you looking at, Missy?

I stare back in silence.

Hi, Luke! How was your day? Mom asks.

Luke mumbles something, as he picks up his backpack. Then he adds, It wasn’t good, okay! Any other questions? And no, I don’t want to talk about it, so don’t bother me!

Okay, okay, Luke. I’m just trying to be interested.

"Why do you always butt into my business? I hate it here! I’m so sick of your stupid rules! None of my friends have their parents breathing down their necks. They never have curfews and cell phone rules. If they want to go somewhere, they just go—no questions asked. You never trust me."

Off he goes, up the stairs and into his room. Then the door slams for the millionth time. I can’t remember problems like this when my sister was in high school. You’d think we’re part of a soap opera. I’d like to give him a piece of my mind. What a selfish jerk!

Along with her beautiful turquoise eyes and happy-go-lucky smile, I’ve inherited Mom’s way of avoiding conflict. I’d rather hide in my room till things blow over. I’m so glad summer will be here soon. Then I’ll be at Grammy’s house and won’t have to see my brother for a whole two and a half months. Living with Luke is unbearable these days. He and Dad are constantly getting into arguments with each other. I can’t stand it!

What was that all about, Mom?

I’m not sure.

Why aren’t you angry? I know I am!

Missy, lots of times when people act like that, it has nothing to do with us. Because we are closest to him, we become the target. Just keep praying for Luke.

Praying! I have been praying. I don’t like the way he talks to you and Dad. My stomach gets all tied up in knots, and I start to feel sick. Then my palms get all sweaty, like I have a temperature or something. I never know when he’s going to explode, like fireworks on the Fourth of July!

Just stay out of Luke’s way, and let Dad and I deal with him. When I was growing up, my big brother was always causing trouble too. I used to watch from a distance, just like you do now. I knew if I tried to say anything, it would make things worse. I know you have a heart for helping others, but people have to want to be helped.

And step by step you’ll lead me, and I will follow you all of my days. That’s the song Mom hums as she fixes dinner for the three of us. Mom’s faith is like a rock. She tries her best not to let stuff bother her and trusts that the big and little things in life will somehow work out.

Meatloaf and gravy with mashed potatoes and peas is one of our favorite meals. The smell of Mom’s special homemade bread is so good. It fills the whole house, and makes me that much hungrier.

Last fall, Mom started her dream job of working for Global Assistance Network. It’s a Christian organization that gives poor people basic things they need, like water, food and clothing. The people in these countries are so poor that they don’t even have beds, dressers, kitchen cabinets, washing machines, and stuff like that. Last week, Mom’s boss told her he had to let her go. He explained that firing her wasn’t something he really wanted to do. Mom blames it on something she calls a bad economy. I remember the look on her face when she told us; I thought someone had died, she looked so sad. Mom was silent through dinnertime, and I should have known something was up. When she explained what happened, I couldn’t help but say something.

It just doesn’t seem right. You are such a hard worker! I know how much you loved your job, spending weekends to help when no one else would come to work. Why do things like this happen?

God has a way of changing things in our lives, even when we can’t understand why. This must be one of those times, Missy.

Lately, Mom spends more time in her bedroom. She has a small sitting area with lots of windows overlooking the lake, with the mountains in the distance. This is the place where she reads, prays and writes in her journal. She calls it her quiet place.

Mom leads a girls’ ministry, which meets in our home. We have a private place in the basement where we get together once a week. Girls thirteen to eighteen years old are welcome to join our group. Most of the time, the girls who attend invite a friend, and that’s how our group grows. This is my first year in the group. We call ourselves Girls of Glory. Lots of times, I can find Mom planning lessons in her quiet place. Leading the group has helped my mom practice what she used to do as social worker, before she had us. She’s a good listener, and gives us girls lots of chances to talk about everything and anything. My problems seem so small compared to those of the high school girls. They are into dating and social activities like cheerleading, after-school clubs and proms. Now that I’ve been attending the small group, I have a lot of new, older friends.

About a week or so ago, I asked Mom if she noticed how strange Mary Beth has been acting. She’s usually one of the more outgoing girls, constantly talking and laughing along with us. She is usually very supportive, but lately she hasn’t said much at all, and she seems so sad.

Yes, Missy, I’ve noticed and have been hoping she’ll tell us what’s bothering her. As you know, dear, I need to be patient and willing to wait, until she’s ready to talk.

Well, Mary Beth just sits and stares when we are together. That’s not like her. I can’t help but wonder what’s going on with her. I hope she shares her problem with us before our summer break.

I feel the same way, Missy.

Mom, can I help with dinner?

Several seconds pass, with no response from her.

Hey, are you okay, Mom?

I’m sorry. What did you say?

I just asked if you need any help with dinner.

Poor Mom, I try to put myself in her shoes and wonder what it would be like to lose my job and put up with my obnoxious brother. Would I choose to mope around the house, be short with everyone that crosses my path or roll my eyes when someone tries to tell me that God’s plans are not ours? I have to remind myself of the words my youth pastor shared about making tough decisions. He says, What would Jesus do?

Mom turns and looks at me. Oh Missy, you’re so thoughtful. Would you set the table for me, pointing to the island that we use for everyday meals. That would be a great help. I nod.

Did you have a nice day at school? How did you do on your Spanish test?

I got an A.

Way to go, Missy!

Today in English class, Mrs. Calhoun took us outside under the old oak tree and we worked on our poetry unit. It was so nice to be outside, instead of in that stuffy old classroom. My friend, Claire, and I made a countdown calendar of the days left until school ends. Mrs. Calhoun hung the calendar up on the board when we went inside. Now, we can count how many days till summer vacation. I can’t wait!

How many days do you have left?

Only nine more days! It isn’t so bad when you just count the days we’ll actually be in school, you know.

Summer is when the rest of my life actually begins. Being at the old shore home is the one thing that helps me get through the rest of the year. It’s where my Dad spent his summers when he was my age. My best friend, Carol Ann, lives near our shore home, and she and I have already been on the phone making summer plans together. What on earth would I do if I couldn’t count on summers at Southern Shores? Thinking about it makes me anxious to hear that final school bell ring in June, and I’m hoping that boy Chris leaves me alone. I don’t like him at all; he is so annoying.

I finish setting the table for Mom, then go upstairs to my bedroom and get my homework organized. I want to finish early, so I can watch the Gospel Music Association’s Dove Awards on TV. There are so many good Christian musicians. I just love singing along with them.

Missy! Luke! Dinner’s ready.

Mom and I are used to having dinner together. Dad is busy working late a few nights during the week. I miss doing things with Dad, like shooting hoops in the driveway and kayaking on Cunningham Falls’ lake. He tries to arrange to be off when we have special events at school that he doesn’t want to miss. We all really appreciate that! Dad’s been telling us that he wants to cut back his hours and hire another doctor to assist him. We’re still waiting.

Most nights, my brother has baseball practice. Luke is home early tonight, for a change. Tomorrow is the beginning of their playoff games. The coach never has practice the evening before an important game. The team is preparing for the end-of-the-year playoffs. My brother is the pitcher, and he loves baseball more than anything.

I smell the food and remember it is time for dinner.

Coming, Mom! I race down the stairs.

Mom calls one more time for Luke to join us. He shouts down, I’m not hungry! I bet! Mom begins to pray.

Dear Lord, thank you for giving us all that we need each day. Bless this food, watch over Luke, Molly, Dad, Missy and me and keep us safe. Amen.

Delicious, I mumble with my mouth full. Mom gives me the usual look, reminding me not to speak with my mouth full. I chew and swallow. Grandma Carrie, Dad’s mother, is a wonderful cook, and I’m guessing Grammy taught Mom everything she knows. The two of them are very good friends.

Mom’s mother, Grandmother Margaret, passed away two years after Mom and Dad were married. Mom doesn’t talk much about her. I don’t think they got along very well. Personally, I think something happened between them. I’m not sure what, but it sure makes Mom sad when I try to talk about her mother. Just her name scares me half to death: Grandmother Margaret. It sounds like someone is announcing the president of the United States when he enters a room. I call her my mystery grandmother.

We sit in silence for a few minutes. I want to talk to Mom about this problem I’m having at school with Chris. He keeps getting more and more bothersome, and I don’t know what to do. I’m waiting for the right time to get her alone.

The smell of dinner must have reached Luke’s room, because here he is, in the kitchen with us. Luke grabs a plate, mounds it with food and pours a glass of iced tea. As he heads out of the room with everything, Mom stops him.

Um, Luke, you need to sit with us and eat. This isn’t a fast-food restaurant, you know.

Luke looks up from his plate, makes a nasty face at her, and I can tell he feels forced to sit with us. He shovels food into his mouth as fast as his fork will go, not looking at either one of us. Seeing this makes me angry, but I don’t want to say something I’ll regret, so I take a deep breath and try to relax. Mom winks at me and I wink back. No sense in stirring up a boiling pot.

What time is your game tomorrow? Mom asks, as she breaks the silence.

A few minutes go by before Luke responds. My brother stares at her for what seems like an eternity. I’ve seen this look before—something’s definitely up with him. If he were a cat, his hair would be standing on end. Why does he act this way?

Six. He huffs.

Dad is taking off early to see you play.

So?

What’s the opposing team like? Do you think you have a good chance of winning?

I don’t want to think about it.

Mom clears her throat. Why’s that?

You’ll find out soon enough.

My eyes go back and forth between Mom and Luke. It’s like watching a ping pong game in slow motion.

I excuse myself, putting my dirty dishes in the dishwasher. I can’t watch any more.

I’m going to get my homework done, Mom. Do you remember that the Dove Awards are on tonight? Are you going to watch with me?

My brother shifts uncomfortably in his chair. He swallows his last bit of food and washes it down with the rest of his tea. He looks at the two of us like we live on another planet. Then, he puts his dishes into the