Andie Beth Steps

By Jan Shearouse Alexuk

All fifteen-year-old Andie Beth Nettles wants to do is play basketball and softball, attend the US Naval Academy, and fly jets. Her life is turned upside down, however, when she must adjust to a new school, friends, and lifestyle. Restrictions, Secret Service agents, and limited freedom all contribute to tension between her and her parents. Andie Beth: Steps, although fiction, can be adapted to book clubs, parent-teen conferences, workshops, retreats, and vacation Bible schools.

Andie Beth Nettles reminds me of Holden Caulfield in Catcher in the Rye.
Judy Radiker Brenner, Crossville, Tennessee

After reading the first draft of this book, I always knew it would be published some day.
Traci Laine, Virginia City, Nevada

• Language: English
• Publisher: Inspiring Voices
• Release date: Sep 13, 2013
• ISBN: 9781462407323

Jan Shearouse Alexuk

Rev. Jan Shearouse Alexuk lives in Hinesville, Georgia, with her husband, Nicholas, and their dog, Dali. She began writing short stories as a teenager and has worked as a newspaper reporter and adjunct college professor at a local community college.

Book preview

Prologue

Andie Beth Nettles is a fifteen year old girl who has many nicknames. Throughout the book she is called by the following names: Andie Beth, A.B., Buzzie, Buzzard, Miss Nettles, Andie B., Andie Beth Nettles, Hyper I, Bumble and Beth. All references throughout the book refer to the same person.

Chapter 1

Election Night

R achel, are you out there?

I’m not getting an answer. Let me try again.

Rachel, ARE YOU OUT THERE?

When I type in caps, I get her attention. Rachel is my best friend, and I’m checking to see if she is on Facebook®. Rachel’s photo says she’s online. Come on, Rachel answer me before I get caught.

It is election night, and I’m stuck studying for a world history mid-term tomorrow. My parents could have gotten me out of it, but not Mr. and Mrs. Perfect. After all, Andie Beth, how would it look if you skipped the test when all your friends had to take it after I preached education, education, education throughout my campaign?

Oh, by the way, did I mention his campaign was for President of the United States. I hope he loses. Publicly, I smile a lot for the press while hissing under my breath every time he gives a speech. It is election night and instead of being downstairs watching election returns, I’m stuck in my third floor bedroom supposedly studying for the history test.

I HATE HISTORY! Who cares about ancient civilizations? I don’t care what the Romans did. All these Caesars’ have me confused. Names and dates, names and dates is all Mrs. Morgan, my world history teacher, cares about.

Before you think I’m weird or something, let me tell you, I don’t want to be downstairs with all the La De Da people involved in Daddy’s campaign. If one more person asks me how I feel about the possibility of Daddy becoming President, I will strangle them. If Mama whispers in my ear one more time to remember my manners, I may strangle her.

I can see the headline now: Future First Lady Murdered by Daughter. How would dear old Daddy react then? Please, God, let the man lose! Surely, people out there aren’t fooled by this guy.

Rachel, where are YOU?

She’s with her parents watching the returns. Her dad is running for senator again. He’s been in the senate since she was four years old, and we became friends when Daddy was elected when I was eight. She lives in Washington, D.C. but her family has an apartment in Baton Rouge.

We have to go to family political events like parades, parish fairs, and fundraisers together, and became friends that way. We text on the phone and Facebook® and see each other whenever she is in town. Baton Rouge is only an hour and a half away so she stays here a lot. We are sort of like sisters. Mama calls her, her other daughter. If the truth be known, Mama would rather have Rachel as a daughter. Around adults Rachel is everything I’m not. She plays the game well and is the perfect example of what a young lady should be. Behind closed doors she cuts loose like the rest of us. She even had her belly button pierced without her parents knowing about it and sticks a band aid on it sometimes to cover it up. Of course, Rachel would never expose her belly button in public. Not prim and proper Rachel.

Mama thinks that Rachel is a good influence on me, which is why she lets her stay here.

Rachel is a straight A student, Andie Beth. You could be too if you would just apply yourself. Mrs. Le Brun says that Rachel comes home from school and dives into her homework. You could learn a lot from your friend.

I roll my eyes and answer the required Yes, Mama.

Again Mama is clueless. Rachel hangs out with me because I live my life the way I want to live it.

A.B. what is it about your mother?

What do you mean?

My mom thinks your mother is Superwoman.

Earth to Rachel. It’s because Mama is a guidance counselor. Everyone at school thinks it must be great to have such an understanding Mother. All I hear all day is how your mother can really relate to us, and how she is so cool. In other words Rach old buddy, old pal, your mom has fallen under the Lynn Nettles Spell.

Well, if it means we can hang out together what difference does it make?

Our family didn’t move to Washington when Daddy was elected to the Senate. Mama liked her job as a guidance counselor at my high school, and didn’t want to quit work. She didn’t resign until school ended last year to campaign with Daddy. I had to put up with being in the same school with her for my freshman year. Then my brother Trey graduated.

He is a basketball player. Daddy wanted him to play for Louisiana State University in Baton Rouge, where Daddy played football a long time ago. Mama said she was staying here for the good of the children. I think it was her routine she was worried about, but it sounded better to everyone the other way. It makes her appear like the martyr that she pretends to be.

Daddy has a small apartment that he rents in Washington, and comes home almost every weekend. When Congress isn’t in session, he’s here all the time, and that’s when the sparks fly. My parents are hard enough to take one-on-one, but when it is both of them against you, forget it.

Andie Beth did you do your homework? Andie Beth clean up your room. Andie Beth you know the rules.

Andie Beth this and Andie Beth that, that’s all I hear with both of them around. Now it’s not that easy. My best tactic is avoidance. I avoid talking to both of them. This has been pretty easy the last few months of the campaign. Since Trey is at LSU, my grandmother Josie has stayed here since school started.

My parents check in every night with the obligatory phone call.

Andie B. how was school today?

Fine.

What did you get on your biology test?

B-. Where do you go tomorrow?

Georgia and Florida.

When will you be home again?

Monday afternoon. Come home right after school. We have to leave again on Tuesday. Be good. We love you.

Love you too.

Click and the conversation ends. Grandma Josie asks me how they are, and I tell her fine. I grumble about having homework to do, and trudge to my room while tripping over the tacky green rug in the hall and fall on my bed.

Why can’t I have a normal family? I scream into my pillow.

"I want my mama and daddy. It’s not fair. My life sucks. I want my life back. I cry out to the world and no one hears me. Just like when I was a little kid and no one saw me.

Grandma Josie cannot hear me. She’s in the kitchen on the opposite side of the house. It is a good thing too, because she thinks it’s great that we’re probably going to live in the White House.

All that fancy food and people waiting on you, Andie Beth you’ll be spoiled rotten.

Yeah, right. Like Mama will allow that. She’ll want me to clean my own room. I can hear her now talking to the maids.

Oh, no, there’s no need to clean Andie Beth’s room. She is quite capable of doing that herself. Save yourself some time and energy for the important people who live here.

Then she’ll turn on me, and remind me of my status as First Daughter.

It’s not fair. My life sucks.

Why am I crying so much? Because I know it is happening. I’m going to end up as First Daughter. I grab the box of Kleenex from my headboard, but it is empty. I cannot stop crying. I reach down to the floor to grab the first thing I can find to wipe my face, my basketball practice jersey. I wipe my tears with it gagging myself in the process. Man I stink! I stumble into the bathroom to wash my face, throwing the jersey in the hamper on the way. Might as well take a shower while I’m here. Grandma Josie will be up to check on me in a while.

That’s how my life has been for the last three months. Mama and Daddy came home late last night after I was asleep. I knew they had been here because when I woke up in the middle of the night. I could smell Mama’s perfume. She still wears Chanel # 5 after all these years. Daddy must have been here too, because there was a baseball cap with Nettles 2012 stuck on my head. I know Daddy had to put it there because Mama does not have a sense of humor.

But why didn’t they wake me up? Don’t they realize how much I’ve missed them? If they hugged me, I would have woken up. These people are totally clueless. I have not seen them in over two weeks. HELLO EARTH TO PARENTS. Your daughter has missed you. I’d never admit it. Andie Beth Nettle’s Rule Number 3: never let your family know how much you love them. Only use the word love when making a response where not using it could get you in trouble.

They left to vote before I got up this morning. You’d think they would at least have breakfast with me. Yeah, right, seeing me wasn’t very high on their priority list. Grandma Josie said that Daddy felt it was important for him and Mama to be the first ones in their precinct at the polls. I threw on a pair of jeans, an LSU tee shirt and my Nikes®. When I came downstairs, Grandma Josie greeted me with a scowl on her face.

Andie Beth, are you wearing that to school today?

Ma’am, no uniforms this week. It’s Homecoming Week, and we can wear whatever we want.

Well, normally I don’t say anything, you know. I know you young people do your own thing these days. But don’t you think you might want to dress up today?

Nope, today is just another day as far as I’m concerned.

Andie Beth Nettles, you know better than that. Today is one of the most important days in your family’s life. There’s going to be photographers all over the place. What will people think if they see you on the news dressed like a bum?

Did Mama or Daddy say I had to dress up? Ma’am, all my friends will think I’ve lost my mind if I dress up when I don’t have to. They’re already making fun of me, and the election isn’t over. As for the reporters, they will say that Senator Nettles has a regular kid for a daughter who isn’t trying to be someone she’s not.

No, your parents didn’t say a word. But Andie Beth, your life is going to change over the next few weeks, and you better get rid of that attitude.

Not if he doesn’t win, ma’am. I’m going to be late for school. Gotta fly.

Come straight home from school.

Can’t Gram. Basketball practice, remember?

Okay, then, right after practice. And Andie Beth?

Yes, ma’am.

Lose the attitude or otherwise you’re going to be grounded until Christmas. You know how your parents hate it.

Yes, ma’am.

And have a good day and study hard.

I finally escaped the house glad that Gram didn’t push the clothes thing. I was surprised there wasn’t a note from Mama telling me what to wear, but I guess she was too tired to write it. I made it to the corner just as the school bus was coming to a stop.

There wasn’t a lot of talk among the kids at school about the election. One or two asked me if I was packed for the White House. I made a face at them. Everyone was more concerned with mid-terms and homecoming. I had Latin and biology tests. St. Martins is one of the few schools that still teach Latin, and Mama insisted I take it. This is my second year, and the tests are translation and open book. She told me I have to take two years of French starting next year. The biology test was another story. We’re studying anatomy, and there are too many muscle groups. I blew it.

My world history teacher asked me if I was going to be in school tomorrow, and offered to let me take a make-up test. I assured him that I would be in class no matter what the outcome is tonight.

Lunch, my favorite subject, was spent discussing the basketball season. Most of the team eats together, and we talk strategy. A lot of the time is spent razzing each other when one of us starts bragging about how good we think we are. It sure beats eating the mystery meat they feed us every day. Just the smell of it makes me want to puke.

Our first game is next week, and I made varsity. If Daddy wins the election I’ll miss most of the season, so I don’t know how much playing time I’ll get. My parents might as well have stamped LOSER on my forehead. My teammates think our team may be pretty good this year, but we’re a young team with only three seniors.

We have a lot of speed with our guards who can really move the ball down the court. The transition game is our specialty. Brooks rebounds the ball and throws it inside to Walker who passes it off to Bordeaux who passes to Comeaux who shoots and scores. Or at least that’s the way it’s supposed to work. If Daddy wins the election, I’ll be in some school with strange kids, and it will be too late to join the team.

But of course, Mama and Daddy keep saying there’s softball. I’ve always been able to play any position, and they keep reassuring me that with my skill I’ll make the softball team at the new school. But who knows what I’ll get into. The team could be full of superstars, and I’ll be a transfer student. They may not even let me try out. Quit worrying Andie Beth. He hasn’t won yet. Oh please, God, let him lose.

The way they talk I think that they already have the school picked out. It’s probably the same private school that Rachel attends. Most of the government kids go to it because of the security.

But, maybe he’ll lose and I won’t have to go. Wouldn’t it be awesome if this is a bad dream and I wake up tomorrow and Daddy’s Nettles Construction truck is parked in the driveway? My life could be normal again. God, I’ll make a deal with you. You let Daddy lose the election, and I’ll clean up my room until graduation without complaining. Come on, God! That’s a good deal! I can stay out of trouble, and you don’t have to hear my whining.

School is over and I head to the gym for basketball practice. Coach starts us off with running drills. We run until we’re falling over. First we run two miles around the track and then more drills. Coach Perry believes in running. He constantly yells Run! Run! Run!

When practice ends I am beat, and when I jerk the sweatband off my head all the sweat drenches my eyes and they burn from the salt. Making a mad dash for the water fountain, I gulp down water as if it is the first drink I’ve ever taken. Rivers of water run down the back of my legs filling my socks making a squishing sound. My jersey is soaked and sticking to my body, and my shorts feel like they are Crazy Glued to my rear. I slide the scrunchies out of my hair, and wring them out on the gym floor. I need a shower. The rest of the team heads for the locker room, and I lag behind. I don’t want to go.

The basketball court is my special place. I am the queen, and the spectators are my servants who have come to watch the mistress at work. Here I have to prove myself to play. It is the one place in the world where I feel powerful. Special privileges on the court are reserved for seniors. The rest of us earn the right to play. Peasants cheer us when we do well, but dare not boo us when we do poorly. We are the elite. I am one of the chosen. The gym is my sanctuary. Here I am free.

Most of the team has left the locker room. Heather, one of the few left, says Hurry up, Andie B. The bus is leaving. Do you still want a ride?

Sure, hold your horses. Where’s the fire?

Peeling off my uniform I make a mad dash for the shower. I’m glad no one else is around.

There’s no hot water, and I forgot the soap. Have to take a longer one later. Getting dressed quickly I shove my uniform in my gym bag and head out the door. Heather and Sandi are still talking about some guy.

Heather, a junior, has her own car. I figure no one in my family will remember I’m still at school so I’d better take advantage of it.

I can’t wait until I turn sixteen in exactly four months and five days and can finally get my license. I know just the car I want. It has to be a gray Jeep that I can take to the mountains for skiing and the beach for surfing. It will be Andie B.’s freedom machine. Mama and Daddy bought Trey a car when he turned sixteen, so they have to buy me one too. It’s only fair.

As we start walking out to the parking lot, I see Mama’s Black Blazer with her in the passenger’s seat reading from a stack of papers.

Heather thanks for the offer, but it looks like my mom is here after all. See you tomorrow.

Sure A.B. and good luck in the election tonight. I bet your dad wins.

Opening the back door, I throw my backpack and gym bag on the seat behind the agent. I get in the other seat beside Mama. As if not to acknowledge my existence, she doesn’t even look up. Does she even know I’m in the car? I don’t say anything. Eventually she looks over at me giving me a half-hug in the process.

Hey, Andie B. how are you? I’ve missed you.

Fine, Mama. I didn’t think you’d remember to pick me up today being Election Day.

You didn’t think we’d leave you stranded at school did you? Your daddy wanted to come pick you up himself, but he figured with all the photographers following him around today, it would only embarrass you.

So, how did you manage to escape?

Went out the back door, and jumped in the car. Almost took out a couple of local news vans in the process. She laughs the familiar laugh I’ve heard so seldom lately. How are your mid-terms going, and basketball practice? I just realized I haven’t seen you in two weeks, and we’ve got to get you some new Nikes ®. Those look like you’ve been running around in the bayou.

School is a drag. I think I bombed the biology mid-term. There were too many muscle groups to memorize. I think I reversed the arm and leg muscles. Tomorrow is my last mid-term, world history. Mrs. Morgan said I could take a make-up test if I wanted to because of election night, but I told her you said I had to take the test with everybody else. Basketball practice is fine. The first game is next week. Is Daddy going to be able to come to it? And as for my Nikes®, I like them this way. They’re just getting comfortable. Besides you said I could buy my own clothes from now on. You know if you’d stay home more often, you wouldn’t have to ask so many questions. You might just get to know me.

We’re trying to keep your life as normal as possible. That’s why you haven’t been on the campaign trail. We thought you would be happier that way.

The only way I could be happy is if this election wasn’t happening. It hasn’t been the same since Daddy was elected to the Senate, and now he may be President. Mama are you really as happy about all this as you are acting?

Mama turns around and slaps me across the face with her right hand. I recoil in shock at the pain.

I can’t believe I just did that.

Mama looks down at her hand surprised at what she did. She has not hit me since I was a little girl, and I am stunned. The full impact of what has happened has not yet registered for either of us.

She waits until we arrive home and the agent is out of the car. Mama is furious, and has that you’ve messed with Lynn Nettles and you’re going to pay for it expression on her face which means my life is over. She unfastens her seatbelt and faces me. Her face is beet red, and I quickly realize that I should have followed Grandma Josie’s advice and lost the attitude. If only I had kept my big mouth shut. Andie B. you are such an idiot. You can forget the ski trip now. You can forget your life. Mama’s never been this mad not even when I almost killed my brother. If it wasn’t for that stupid sign, I would never have grabbed the matches. Daddy said it was my clubhouse too. I only wanted to scare him a little bit. He told me I couldn’t play because I wasn’t big enough. I want to take back the words that I just said, but know it is too late. Having a heart attack would be a welcome relief right now, because I have a feeling that I might not live to move to Washington after Mama gets finished with me.

"Andie Beth Nettles I have had it with you. Your daddy and I have done everything we could possibly do to make you happy, and yet you still continue to act like a spoiled brat. We could have moved to Washington eight years ago when your daddy was elected to the Senate. Most people thought we were crazy for not doing it. But no, he and I thought we were doing what was best for our children by staying here in Kenner and giving you a more stable environment.

Do you have any idea of how lonely I have been for the last eight years? How every time he got on that plane to return to Washington I wanted to run after him, and tell him to find a house so we could move?

When he decided to run for President, the first thing I thought was that we would be together as a family. Your brother would be in college, and it would be the three of us again. We would be in the same house, and we would have him at home every night. His office would be three floors away from us. I could feel like a wife again.

You’re right. We didn’t ask you how you felt about him becoming President. Maybe we should have, but it’s too late now. Any other kid would be thrilled; living in the White House; going to school with Rachel; having all the privileges of being the First Kid; taking trips with your daddy and me. But no, not you. Andie Beth wants it her way or not at all. Well, guess what young lady, it’s too late. According to the exit polls, he is going to win the election. Whether you like it or not, you’re moving to Washington in January.

I’m starting the car. We’re going home. You are to march in the house; give your daddy a hug, and go straight to your room. Tell him you have to study for your test. I’ll tell Mama you want to have dinner in your room, because you have so much homework. I don’t want to see your face again tonight. You are grounded until I tell you differently. That means no telephone, no television, no music, and no computer."

It’s probably a good idea if I don’t say anything. We pull into the driveway, and I grab my gear out of the back seat and try to dodge the reporters and photographers who have set up camp in front of the house. Mama shadows me with a phony smile plastered on her face. Reporters are shouting questions at her about how she feels about the election. She smiles and waves at the photographers while hissing at me to smile and wave.

I’m in the house. Daddy is in the living room surrounded by a group of men and women who I recognize from the campaign. I head for the stairs, but he sees me.

"Buzzie, you weren’t going upstairs without saying hello to me were you?

Hi Daddy.

I drop my things on the stairs, and rub my face. No sense arousing suspicion. I sneak a glance at Mama who is talking with Grandma Josie. All these people around, and they’re clueless. None of them would ever guess what Mama did to me. I wish they’d notice. They all think she’s wonderful. They don’t see how mean she really is. They didn’t see her hit me. I’m hurting you idiots. But none of you get it. I don’t think any of you ever will.

What’s wrong with your face? It looks red.

"Nothing Daddy. I got elbowed in practice. I’ll be okay. I’ve missed you too Daddy.

Well, act like it and give the old man a hug

I hug Daddy tight. I want him to get the message about what has just happened, but I can’t talk to him. Not today. Not with her on the other side of the room. I want my daddy, but Daddy doesn’t get it. He hasn’t gotten it for a long time.

I’ve got to go study, Daddy. Glad you’re home.

Thanks Andie B. I’m glad I’m home too.

I grab my backpack and gym bag and run up the stairs taking them two at a time but not before glancing over my shoulder to see if Mama is looking. She isn’t. Nothing has changed.

My room looks the same as it did this morning. Guess I’m going to have to clean it up, because I’ll be spending a lot of time here over the next few months. I drag the hamper out of the bathroom and start picking up dirty clothes, and shooting baskets with them. Some of these clothes smell like they have been here since the summer.

I see my face in the mirror, and the red mark is still there. I can’t believe Mama did that. She hit me hard. I grab a washcloth and drench it in cold water. It helps a little but my salty tears make the pain worse. Tripping over my basketball I land head first on my bed and the flood of tears gush out like a dam bursting from the pressure. I can’t stop crying.

I hear footsteps on the stairs. The top step creaks alerting me that someone is coming. Since Trey left for college, the third floor is now mine.

Jumping off the bed, I head to the bathroom and close the door grabbing a wet washcloth to wipe my face. Maybe, it’s Daddy coming to rescue me, my knight in shining armor. No, Gary Nettles is too caught up in practicing his acceptance speech to be bothered with me. More likely it’s the wicked Mama of the south coming to inflict more punishment on me. No, Lynn Nettles is too busy playing the perfect candidate’s wife to waste her time with me. It’s probably Grandma Josie with supper.

I come out of the bathroom, and toss the basketball in the rocking chair so I won’t trip over it again. Grabbing my backpack I sit at my desk and dig for my world history book and notebook. I roll the chair over to the bed, and bury my feet under the blanket folded on the end of it. The blanket feels fuzzy, and smells like fabric softener. Grandma Josie must have washed it today. There is a knock on the door. It is Grandma Josie.

Your mama says you’re not eating with us tonight. Said you’re studying. Just as well. I don’t know when your parents will get around to eating. Too many people in this house for me right now.

Is that all she said Gram?

Well, I know she seemed a little upset when she first came home. Said she didn’t want to talk - something about road rage. You didn’t do anything to make her mad did you?

No, not me Gram. It must have happened before she picked me up. She was upset then.

What happened to your face? It looks red.

Got elbowed in practice. I’ll be okay.

Andie Beth, is something bothering you? You look sort of teary-eyed.

No, ma’am I’m fine. My face is sore from Heather’s elbow.

Well, you tell Heather to go easy on you. After all, you’re going to be the President’s Kid.

Okay Gram

Now eat your dinner before it gets cold. I’ll be up to check on you later and get the dishes.

Gram you know I love you, don’t you?

She winks, and I see Mama’s smile.

I want to jump up and hug Gram. Part of me wants to tell her the story, but I check my mouth. I can’t tell her that her precious daughter Lynn hates me. I would look bad. I hate lying to Gram, but I can’t tell her what happened like I couldn’t tell Daddy. No one understands. Lynn Nettles is the queen. They both worship her. Tomorrow, she will be the First Lady, and the country will worship her, minus one.

I take one look at dinner and want to throw up. Eating is the last thing I want to do tonight. When I’m uptight, my emotions go straight to my stomach and I can’t eat. But I have to get rid of the food. If I don’t eat, Gram will tell Mama, and it will be another charge added to my rap sheet. After sticking the brownies in a desk drawer for later, I flush the rest of the food down the toilet, leaving the green beans since Gram knows I hate them. Guess I’d better study but I don’t really want to. This subject always puts me to sleep, but I better get it over with. The knock at the door wakes me up. It is Grandma Josie coming to pick up the dishes.

What’s wrong Gram all the noise get to you? Has he won yet?

Just wanted to come get these dishes out of the way. Lord knows if it was up to you, you’d have every dish in the house up here.

I’d leave one plate for you Gram, couldn’t let you go hungry.

It’s so noisy down there a woman can’t hear herself think. How your mama and Daddy stand it is beyond me. Well, guess I’ll say goodnight. Now stand up and give your Gram a hug.

I stand up before I realize that my foot has fallen asleep, and almost fall on the floor. Grandma Josie catches me in her frail arms, and holds tight.

Andie B. you are the clumsiest kid I have ever seen. How you manage to play all those sports without killing yourself is beyond me.

Practice, Gram practice.

Goodnight Andie B.

I shuffle through my notes. None of them make sense. Some of the papers are under my bed. I spend the next hour on the floor crawling around trying to get organized. I give up. This isn’t working. I’m not studying anymore. It doesn’t matter anyway. Who cares if I pass history? Do you hear me world? I don’t care. I’m not studying any