Sometimes Love Isn't Enough Read online

  More than anything in the world, Andrea wanted to do that. She would buy only the finest clothes, eat in only the best places, have only the nicest friends. She’d never have to depend on some dumb factory for a job.

  Just wait! she told herself fiercely. Just wait and see!

  THREE

  “Here he comes! The tickle monster is going to get you!” Jim Manetti called from his position on his hands and knees on the living room floor.

  Timmy squealed with delight and hid behind the overstuffed chair. Andrea ducked behind the sofa and tried to stifle her laughter.

  “Stay there, Timmy!” she called. “He can’t get both of us at once.”

  Timmy quickly crawled to the far side of the room. The “tickle monster” grabbed him by his foot as he tried to slip past. Timmy let out peals of laughter as his father tickled him, and they rolled around on the floor together.

  “I’ll rescue you!” Andrea cried. Flinging a fluffy sofa pillow at her dad, she pounced on the two of them. The walls echoed with the squeals of laughter.

  “What’s going on in here?” Andrea’s mother shouted from the doorway.

  All activity stopped. The three wrestlers looked at her from their positions on the floor.

  “You’re making enough racket to wake the dead!” she said angrily. “Good grief, Jim! Stop acting like a kid. You’re a grown man.”

  The fun was over. Mr. Manetti sighed and stood up heavily. “Ah, Beth. Lay off,” he said. “I’ve been on the road for four days. I haven’t seen the kids.”

  “So what? I’ve been stuck in this house the whole time!” Andrea’s mom snapped. “Do you have any consideration for me?” She didn’t wait for his answer. “No! This house is falling down around us. But do you do ONE thing to help out? No! You roll around on the floor playing, instead of doing the things I need done!”

  Andrea’s dad sighed. “I don’t want to fight,” he said grimly. “What do you want done?”

  “The storm windows for one,” she started.

  “Timmy want tickle monster!” Timmy began to shout.

  “Stop it!” his mother yelled. “Stop it right now!”

  Timmy threw himself on the floor and started kicking and screaming.

  “Andrea!” her mom barked. “Take him upstairs right now!”

  Andrea jumped forward and wrapped her arms around Timmy from behind, pinning his flailing arms to his sides. “Shh,” she said soothingly into his ear. “Come on up to your room. Andi will read you a story.”

  Timmy only wailed louder. Andrea pushed him slowly out of the living room and up the stairs. She talked soothingly to him all the way up to his room.

  “Thanks a lot!” her father said angrily to his wife. Then the fight began—her parents were yelling at each other just like always.

  “Well, are you ready?” Terri asked Andrea. They walked through the already-humid morning air toward the school bus stop.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” Andrea said. She was nervous. She’d had butterflies in her stomach since the night before. Late August and the school year had finally arrived. This was the first day of seventh grade—the first day of a whole new world.

  Andrea looked at Terri as they walked along. She looked good in her new outfit. Andrea wished she had new clothes for school. But her mother had said, “I’m sorry. If only your father would let me go out and get a job, we’d have money for extras like decent clothes,” she had grumbled. So there had been no use in going shopping with Terri and her mom for anything for herself. Just one more disappointment.

  “Did you bring your lunch?” Terri asked, interrupting Andrea’s thoughts.

  Andrea folded the bag into a smaller bundle. Her family couldn’t afford for her to buy lunches either. “Uh, yeah,” she said. “I didn’t want to chance rotten food on the first day,” she said, feeling a little guilty about not telling Terri the truth.

  “Yeah, I know what you mean,” Terri said.

  They arrived at the crowded bus stop. The older kids, the returning eighth and ninth graders, stood off to themselves, checking out the new arrivals. Finally, the yellow bus pulled up to the curb, and everyone got on.

  The bus was packed, but no one was sitting in the third seat from the front on the driver’s side. Everyone passed by it and squeezed into already occupied seats.

  “That’s odd,” Andrea said to Terri. “Wonder why no one’s sitting there?”

  “Don’t know,” Terri said, as she scanned the bus for an open seat.

  “Well, then we will,” Andrea said and flopped down into the seat.

  The chatter increased as the bus sputtered along. At the next stop, the doors opened, and more kids flowed inside.

  Andrea had been staring out the window when she felt a nudge on her shoulder and heard a voice say, “Hey! What are you doing in my seat?”

  She looked up at a tall boy with dark hair and unfriendly brown eyes. He wore a thick leather jacket, blue jeans, and a leather strap around one wrist.

  “I’m sitting here,” Andrea said. “I didn’t see your name on this seat.”

  “Everybody knows this is Tony Columbo’s bus seat,” he said menacingly. “Isn’t that right?” he called to the busload of kids.

  The bus had grown strangely quiet. “Sure, Tony,” a few voices called out. “It’s your seat.”

  He looked down defiantly at Andrea. She felt her cheeks grow hot.

  “Maybe we should move,” Terri whispered in her ear.

  But now Andrea was angry. Who does this guy think he is anyway? she wondered. He wants to hog a whole bus seat while everybody else squeezes into the rest of the seats. “I’m not moving!” she said, looking Tony in the eye.

  He sized her up, from the tip of her chin to her brand new notebook. Just then the impatient bus driver came to her rescue. “Sit down, Columbo!” she called irritably. “This bus doesn’t move until everybody’s sitting, and you know it!”

  Tony glowered at Andrea. Then he shrugged and threatened, “You’re just a little seventh grader, so you wouldn’t know this is my seat. But now you do know—so don’t sit here again!” Then he walked down the aisle thumping the back of each seat as he passed.

  He stopped at a seat in the back of the bus, and he looked down on a trembling boy. “You!” he said loudly. “Out!”

  The kid jumped up, dropping his books. Everyone laughed. Andrea felt sorry for the boy.

  He reminded her of Timmy, shy and scared. Now she wished she had moved.

  After the bus unloaded in front of the school, Andrea forgot all about Tony. She had to concentrate on finding her homeroom. A mob of kids clogged the halls. She looked at her schedule printout and decided that her homeroom was on the second floor.

  “See ya this afternoon,” Terri said cheerfully.

  “Sure,” Andrea said. She felt lost and out of place in the teeming halls. Everything was so different—so big! There were so many people. She hurried off, hoping to find her room before the tardy bell sounded.

  In her homeroom, she recognized only three kids. The teacher, Mrs. Trostle, called roll and assigned seats. After the opening announcements from the PA system, the bell rang, and homeroom was over.

  Andrea moved to her first period class and after that to her second, third, and fourth period classes. The morning passed quickly. Seventh grade is definitely different! she thought.

  At lunchtime, Andrea met Terri in the cafeteria. They compared notes on their classes, the cutest guys, and the most boring teachers.

  “I’ve got chorus during sixth period,” Andrea told Terri. “I can’t wait!”

  “I’ve got math,” Terri said, rolling her eyes. “I hate math,” she added.

  Andrea glanced at the cafeteria clock. “Gotta run. Meet you at the bus stop after school,” she called as she hurried out of the cafeteria.

  Andrea arrived in the music room for her last class just before the bell rang. She looked around. Chairs were set up on tiers in a semi-circle. A small stage stood in the front
of the room. On it rested a music stand and a piano.

  She quickly made her way to the section marked “soprano” and watched other students hurry into the room and sit down. There were more than fifty people. It was one of the few classes that seventh through ninth graders could take together. She wondered if any of them could really sing or if chorus was just an easy course.

  Suddenly, a small, dark-haired woman entered the room. She walked authoritatively to the front of the room and looked around. “I’m Ms. Vesper,” she said crisply. “I’m new here at Jefferson. Mr. Stabler retired. If you’re here to sing, then we’ll get along fine. If you aren’t, then I suggest you sign up for study hall instead. I’ve got plans for my students this year. Big plans.”

  Many of the students let out a collective groan. That answered Andrea’s question. Most of the kids in the room were there because they considered chorus a do-nothing course.

  Before Ms. Vesper could go on, the door opened, and Tony Columbo sauntered into the room. Andrea felt her stomach drop. Oh, no! she thought. Not that creep.

  “You’re late!” Ms. Vesper snapped.

  Tony rolled his eyes at her.

  Ms. Vesper didn’t back down. “Sit!” she ordered. Everyone in the room held their breaths to see what Tony was going to do.

  FOUR

  Tony stared with a cold, hard sneer. Ms. Vesper stared back, her eyes boring into his. “I said, ‘Sit down!’” she repeated.

  Finally, Tony broke the tension in the air with a half-laugh and said condescendingly, “You’re the boss.” He plopped down in the front row of the baritone section. Andrea shuddered inwardly, disliking Tony all the more.

  “All right,” Ms. Vesper said as she turned back to the class. “How many of you are here because you really like to sing?”

  Everybody looked around at each other. Finally some of the students tentatively raised their hands, including Andrea. In total, about thirty-five kids made up the group of “real” singers.

  “Good!” Ms. Vesper called. “For the rest of you,” she continued, “I’ll give you a choice. Either plan to become interested in singing or change your schedule and take another subject during sixth period.” Everyone shuffled and began to whisper. Ms. Vesper held up her hand and added, “For the students who really want to sing, I’m going to begin auditions for show choir next Monday during class.

  “The show choir will have fifteen voices. Only the best of you will make it. Being in show choir will be a privilege. We’ll be working hard. I’ve planned several community and school performances during the school year. If you think you want to try out, then sign up after class.”

  As Ms. Vesper talked, Andrea grew more and more excited. She wanted to make the show choir more than anything! She knew that she could sing. Now she just had to show Ms. Vesper.

  The rest of class passed quickly. Ms. Vesper handed out sheet music to each section and found two girls in the class who played piano. She directed a few simple choral arrangements and listened from various places in the room to the blend and balance of the voices. Chorus was over all too soon for Andrea as the bell rang signaling the end of class.

  Andrea gathered her things and headed for the bus-loading zone in front of the gym to meet Terri. They boarded their bus and were careful to sit in the back, far from Tony Columbo’s “special” seat. But Tony never got on the bus, and after five minutes of loading, the bus left. Andrea was relieved. She didn’t want any more run-ins Tony today.

  It’s a shame he is such a pain. Remembering his face, she thought he was sort of good-looking.

  The house was a mess. Andrea trudged up the stairs to her room and tossed her books down on her bed with a sigh. Why is it so hard for Mom to clean up? she thought angrily. What else does she do all day long?

  “Andi!” her mother called from the foot of the stairs.

  “What?” Andrea answered impatiently.

  “Andi, I have to go out for a while. You have to watch Timmy,” her mom said.

  “But I’ve got homework,” Andrea protested.

  “Do it later!” her mom snapped. “Your father just called to say he wouldn’t be home tonight.”

  “Swell,” Andrea muttered. “Another happy night at the Manettis.”

  “I’m sick of sitting around this house,” her mother continued. “I’m going out!”

  Andrea heard the door slam as her mother left.

  She went down the hall and knocked on Timmy’s door then opened it. He was sitting in his usual position in the middle of the floor, his legs crossed, rocking back and forth.

  “Hi, bubba,” she said, touching his shoulder.

  Timmy focused on her face and smiled sweetly. “Andi . . . Andi . . . ,” he echoed.

  She suddenly felt like crying. Today had been her first day of school, and her mother had never even asked her about it. Her dad was off on business, and Timmy was oblivious to everything. “What a mess,” she said sadly.

  “Timmy clean up!” her brother said brightly, jumping to his feet and going over to his worktable. She followed him and ruffled his hair. In a way he is lucky to not understand, she thought. He is in his own private world where happiness is a full stomach, a warm bed, and a fuzzy teddy bear.

  “If only life were that simple,” she murmured.

  The next few days passed quickly for Andrea. Her classes were interesting. She made a couple of new friends. She studied more at night and found less time for her magazines and daydreaming fantasies. Although she and Terri still walked to and from to the bus stop together and talked on the phone every night, Andrea felt distanced from her. She sensed her world was changing and becoming more complex.

  She also made a conscious effort to stay out of Tony Columbo’s way. When she saw him hanging around the halls, she avoided him by taking a different route—even if it took her longer to get where she was going. She had overheard two girls in the restroom say he’d been in the principal’s office twice during the first week of school for skipping class. Yet he was always in chorus and, strangely, at times seemed almost interested in the class.

  Of course, that was easy with Ms. Vesper in charge. Everyone who had chosen to stay in chorus seemed to like her. Despite the strict way she ran her classroom, she was full of energy. She pushed her students to work hard, but no one seemed to mind. Students liked to please her. Andrea thought Ms. Vesper was the best teacher she’d ever had in school. She wished the rest of her teachers were as interesting and passionate as the dynamic little chorus teacher.

  When it came time for Andrea to audition for show choir, she was nervous. But once the music started, she sang flawlessly, and Ms. Vesper nodded her approval. “Very good, Andrea!” she said. “You have a powerful voice.”

  “Thank you,” Andrea said, blushing.

  As she turned to go back to her seat, a foot shot out in front of her. She didn’t see it and tripped, falling into the laps of several guys in the first row. “Oh!” she cried.

  Everyone began to laugh, and Andrea felt her face turn red. “Who tripped me?” she demanded.

  “I gotcha, baby!” Brian Sanderson called, locking his arms around her.

  “Let me go!” Andrea said.

  “Brian!” Ms. Vesper ordered. “Cut it out.”

  “Yes, ma’am!” Brian said with a smirk. He loosened his hold on Andrea, and she hit the floor with a thud. The class roared. Andrea was so angry and embarrassed that she began to shake.

  “That’s enough!” Ms. Vesper yelled. The laughter quickly died down to just a few giggles.

  “But you said, ‘Let go,’” Brian said with a shrug. Andrea got up and glared at Brian. But she knew it hadn’t been his fault. Someone else had tripped her. She looked behind her and saw Tony staring hard at the piano and looking innocent—too innocent, Andrea guessed. She wanted to throw something at him. Instead, she went back to her chair and sat down. She was still seething inside when the bell rang. But there was nothing she could do about it, nothing at all.

  “I
hate you, Tony,” she mumbled under her breath.

  “You are not going to get a job!” said Mr. Manetti to his wife.

  “Why not? We need the money! We’re already so far in debt we’ll never get out,” yelled Andrea’s mother. She added, “Not to mention there’s never any money for extras!”

  “That’s my problem! You’re not working, and that’s final,” her dad said tensely.

  Andrea lay in bed, listening to her parents yell at each other. Their fight had begun downstairs and had moved right outside her bedroom door. She pulled the covers over her head and squeezed her eyes shut.

  “You have plenty to do around this house,” her dad continued loudly, “if you actually cared enough to do it. When I come home, the place is always a mess. And you want to go to work!”

  “Oh, yeah,” Mrs. Manetti shot back. “Real challenging work—cleaning house and washing dishes. We have to scrape by because of your stupid pride.”

  “The kids need a full-time mother!” Andrea’s dad yelled.

  “Why?” she asked hotly. “Andi’s old enough to let herself in after school and to even start supper for me. Timmy’s in that special school, which costs an arm and a leg, I might add! He can stay at the day care there, and I can pick him up on my way home from work.”

  “You’re not working!” he shouted.

  “I AM WORKING!” she shouted back. She paused and added, “I already have a job.” The silence that followed Andrea’s mother’s words was almost worse than the shouting.

  “You what?” her dad asked in disbelief.

  “I start Monday at the bank. I’m a cashier and teller,” she said calmly.

  “You went behind my back and got a job anyway?” her dad said.

  “That’s right!” Mrs. Manetti snapped. “And I’m proud of myself. It’s a good job.”