Page 14 of Promise Keeper

"So you did it to prove that your dad doesn't keep you from breaking the law?"

"I know it was dumb, and I know I don't need to prove anything to anyone, especially people who think I'm boring if I don't break the law."

"Then why did you do it if you know you don't have anything to prove?"

"I don't know. I guess I didn't want to be the boring one. The predictable one. The one they don't invite to parties or ask to hang out."

"I thought you were popular at school?"

"Not really. I have my friends, but I'm not popular."

"Well, I have news for you. Those friends you have are worth ten times what those other kids are, and they won't ask you to be someone you're not. Don't minimize what you have, and stop trying to impress people who don't call themselves friends."

"I know. You're right." She sighed and laid her head on her hands.

"Listen," I said, taking her salad around the kitchen island to the table. "You're a teenager. If you're ever going to push the boundaries and find out who you are and who you aren't, this is the time. But don't compromise your standards and beliefs for any reason. True friends won't ask you to, okay?"

She nodded and sniffled. I pulled a tissue from the box on the counter by the phone and handed it to her. "Now, as part of your punishment, you're going to help the Action Agency do some research. Boring research. Historical research. It will be tedious and awful."

I loved reading about the past, but I knew it would be torture for Mia.

"My dad's going to ground me forever," she said.

"I don't know about forever, but at least until you're twenty. Now eat your salad and get to bed. Our day starts early tomorrow in Brenda's stacks of books about this town."

"I'm already falling asleep just thinking about it," she said, and wiped her eyes.

"Johnna came my way doing mandatory volunteer hours for stealing yarn. I know you don't want to end up like her, so let this be a lesson learned."

"I will not end up like Johnna. I don't even know how to knit."

I gave myself a mental head slap. Getting through to a teenager was like walking through a brick wall.

7

Mia and I were on Brenda's steps of Read and Re-Read when she opened the door on Sunday morning.

"Surprise!" I said, handing her a Blueberry Hill coffee from Soapy's. "We're here to do some research."

"I'm betting this is about the bones," she said, letting us inside.

The book store was filled to the brim with gently used books of all genres. It smelled of paperbacks and ink. Brenda lived above the store in the old building painted white with a large picture window in the front for her displays. Until I'd met Pamela, I'd thought Brenda had the best job there ever could be.

"It's about the bones," Mia confirmed.

"We need to find out if there was a caucasian man around thirty-years-old killed with a tire iron or something similar about a hundred years ago," I told her. "Oh, and he had a limp."

"That's oddly specific," she said. "How did you find out all of that?"

I told her about Pamela.

"She could get all of that information from old bones?" She asked. "That's amazing."

"I know! If I had it all to do over, I'd get my degree in forensic anthropology."

We both looked at Mia. "What? She said. "I'm going to school for fashion, not to dig up dead people."

"Maybe you should talk to her," I said. "Ask her about what she does. There's no harm in that and you might find it interesting."

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