C. J. Darlington - Searching for Normal

Real, Not Perfect

Searching for Normal

The Me You See

Chasing the Spotlight

Searching for Normal

Copyright 2021 by Focus on the Family. All rights reserved.

A Focus on the Family book published by Tyndale House Publishers, Carol Stream, Illinois 60188

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ISBN 978-1-58997-705-1

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Build: 2021-04-21 22:35:30 EPUB 3.0

I WISHED MY GRANDMOTHER would yell at me. Or say something. Even a scolding about how I needed to stop slouching or speak up or quit being so sensitive wouldve been better than the icy silence that filled the SUV. So I stayed quiet too, watching the green street signs pass by us in the darkness and listening to the squeaky windshield wipers keep rhythmic time. Grams didnt have to say a word to convey her disappointment. The silence screamed what she couldnt say: Shay Mitchell, youre a loser.

I glanced over at the older woman, her graying hair coiffed and styled like she was heading to a gala at the country club rather than pawning off her granddaughter. Id been staying off and on with my Aunt Laura since school started, but now it was going to be official. My grandparents had made that very clear. Screw up like I had, and you end up alone. Or at least out of their house.

When we were nearly at the bookstore my aunt owned, I almost spoke up. Wouldnt speaking my mind be better than holding everything inside? Thats what my friend Amelia would definitely say. And Izzy and Tessa would probably agree too, though Tessa might at least understand why I was regularly labeled shy. But people who called me that usually didnt understand I was often quiet just because it sometimes took me a while to figure out what I wanted to say. By the time I did, everyone else had usually moved on. I wasnt antisocial. I just needed to socialize with the right people. People who got me. Unfortunately, most didnt.

Did you pack your Bible?

I closed my eyes for a second before waving toward the back seat currently loaded with my meager belongings. I packed everything.

Well, you seem to have forgotten everything your dad taught you.

In my heart I tried to remember that even though Id lost my dad six months ago, shed lost her only son. Her callousness made sense, but it didnt hurt any less.

Your aunts sacrificing a lot to take you in.

Like Grams hadnt told me that about a million times in the last week.

I shrugged.

My grandmother shook her head.

About the sum of our relationship these days. I could barely remember the fun Christmases where wed trek to the tree farm and cut down our own tree and my grandfather made his famous eggnog even my dad couldnt replicate. Or every year on my birthday when wed all go camping with the horses.

I rubbed the small scar hidden under my hairline. I wanted to say I was sorry for the trouble Id caused them, and how I wished things were different. I would do anything to go back and change what happened. But instead, I did what I always didI kept it all inside.

Grams turned into the back parking lot of Booked Up, and a burst of adrenaline flickered across my chest. I actually liked my aunt, mostly because she left me alone a lot of the time. This nervousness was rooted at a deeper level. Id never really thrived on uncertainty or the unknown. That was for people like my dad, the brilliant artist and book-cover designer by day and adrenaline junkie by night. Dad had skydive over every continent plastered at the top of his bucket list. Had being the operative word.

I climbed out of the SUV and opened the back door, grabbing my overfilled suitcase and duffel bag. It was still raining, but I didnt really care.

Grams carefully unfurled her umbrella before stepping out. Shay, your hair!

I shrugged again. My hair was the least of my concerns pretty much every day. A little water wouldnt hurt it.

I made two wet trips from the SUV to the bookstore storeroom before Grams found Aunt Laura somewhere in the store. She knew we were coming, but I didnt expect her to be waiting. Despite the fact that she was a successful entrepreneur in her thirties, my aunt was late to nearly everything. It would almost be an endearing quality if it didnt mean that I ended up late everywhere too.

Aunt Laura rushed into the storeroom behind my grandmother, tucking strands of her shoulder-length, wavy dark hair behind her ears. Shed dyed a thin strip of it red, and today she rocked the professional, entrepreneurial-woman look in skinny jeans and a blazer. I glanced down at my own worn jeans and cowboy boots. One small positive. Maybe some of her style would rub off on me.

Sorry, Aunt Laura said. Lost track of the time.

I managed a smile. My grandmother did not.

Aunt Laura took my duffel from me and gave me a quick pat on the shoulder. No hug, which also didnt surprise me. Physical affection was a scarce commodity with my aunt, though not because she didnt care. Hugs just werent her thing.

Ill catch up with you, Aunt Laura said to me.

Which meant she and my grandmother wanted to talk about me.

I started to walk away still lugging my suitcase, but then I hesitated as a twinge of sadness touched me. My grandmother and I might not be on the best of terms, but she was still my grandmother.

See ya, Grams, I said.

But my grandmother had already turned her back.

The bookstore smelled like paper and French roast coffee, and even though my suitcase had wheels, I chose to carry it. At seven oclock the place was crowded, and I hated the attention the noisy wheels would bring. I couldve used the outside entrance to get to my aunts apartment above the bookstore, but I didnt relish carrying luggage up a flight of slippery wooden stairs. So through the bookstore I went, hoping to avoid eye contact with customers.

I weaved my way around a woman perusing the shelves of used books, a dripping umbrella hanging from her hand. Aunt Laura would lose it if she saw that. It was going to stain the

Shay!

I almost pretended I didnt hear the girl calling my name.