“Good work, guys,” Portia said, looking at the progress on the first floor. “Get to class, get a good night’s sleep, and we’ll see you back here in the morning.”
“I’m getting my stitches out tomorrow, so I’ll be running a little late,” I said as we put away the tools and grabbed our bags. Koby and Portia helped Celia through the door and down the steps. Portia checked the lock and hid the key under a stone, and we all headed up Rios Buena Suerta.
“There’s enough money in the budget for a wider front door and a ramp,” Portia said in her all-business voice. “Koby, you want to order the supplies so we can get those in right away? That way if Celia gets here ahead of the rest of us, she can start right in.”
I hated to admit it, but Portia was doing a good job as team leader. It made sense for each of us, including Celia, to have access to the project at any hour. With so much work and so little time, we’d all have to be here every spare second to get the project done on deadline. Eight families were already lined up to occupy the renovated structures once they were completed. We couldn’t let them down.
“Thank you, Portia. That’s so thoughtful of you,” Celia said over the whir of her wheels. “I’m so used to being independent, you can’t believe how helpless something like too narrow a doorway can make me feel.”
We turned the corner, bringing the bus depot in sight. “Oh, I believe it,” Portia said. “Probably about as helpless as I felt when my car got stolen. Thank God for Dogpatch.”
“When did that happen?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder at her. In the background, I saw a form coming down the porch of our current undertaking.
“’Bout three years ago,” Portia was saying.
“Hey.” I stopped in my tracks and pointed. “Hey!” I dropped my bag and took off at high speed, running along the sidewalk toward the bungalow. “Hey!”
The figure stopped and waved his hands at me. “Whoa. Whoa.”
It was what’s-his-name, the purple-face guy.
“What do you think you’re doing?” My lungs felt like they’d fall out with my next exhale.
“Peeking in the window. That’s all. Seeing how far you got today.”
His voice sounded a little too full of schmooze. I didn’t trust him.
“A spy, huh?” I only hoped that was all he was doing. I wiggled the doorknob. Still locked. “Don’t start playing dirty.” I gave him my most threatening glare. “Neither team has time for it.”
“Kind of suspicious, aren’t you?” He rubbed at his jaw.
Portia slid to a halt next to me. “What’s going on?”
“Just seeing what he was up to on our porch,” I said. Portia stuck her nose inches from his. “What’s your name again?”
“Simon Scroll.”
“Well, Simon,” she said, “you just transferred in, so I’ll cut you some slack. But if you cross the line, I’m going to have to teach you a thing or two.
“Si, senorita.” He turned his back to us and stepped off the curb, mumbling something unintelligible under his breath.
I watched him cross the street to his own project. “Gee. For some reason I thought this was a Christian college. With guys like him around, guess I don’t have to worry about the behavior police coming after me.”
“News flash. We’re just beggars telling other beggars where to find food.”
“Well, I guess that excuses your attitude.” I turned and started walking toward the waiting Koby and Celia.
Portia grabbed my arm. “What do you mean by that?”
I pulled away. “You’re so defensive all the time. And pretty bossy, I might add. But I guess beggars can act any way they want.”
For a second she looked like she might cry. Then her expression hardened. “I don’t have time for all that niceynicey talk people do when they say one thing to your face and something else behind your back. I just tell you what’s on my mind right up front. If you don’t like it, that’s your problem.” She walked past me.
“I don’t like it. And I don’t think anybody else likes it, either. That makes it your problem.” I caught up to her. She snarled over her shoulder and walked faster. “I’m doing the best I can. I’m not going to worry my little head about anybody’s feelings but my own.”
“We can all see you’re hurt. Do you have to take it out on us?” I raced to keep up.
“You don’t know the meaning of hurt until you’ve read my file. So back off.”
Celia and Koby scooted aside as Portia barreled by like a steam engine without brakes.
“Oh,” I shouted at her back, stooping to grab my bag as I flew past, “you have a monopoly on pain? Maybe you should read my file.”
“Yeah,” she flung at me. “It starts with ‘Once upon a time’ and ends with ‘Happily ever after.’ Who can feel sorry for the Little Princess?”
The air rushed out of me. She obviously didn’t know anything about my background. And I’d gladly keep it that way. “Hey, just because my uncle owns half of California doesn’t make me royalty. So back off.”
Portia reached the bus stop and leaned against the metal signpost, panting.
“Besides,” I gasped for air and took a stand next to her, “if all you’re looking for is sympathy, you’re doing a terrible job. I’d rather slug you than feel sorry for you.”
“Good,” she said and flashed a smile, “then it’s working.” I leaned over and held my knees, drawing noisy breaths of air. “You are so messed up.”
She laughed. “I know. That’s what you like about me. We’re so much alike.”
I shook my head. “I’m not that messed up.”
“Hey”-she grinned-“the only difference between us is I admit it. You’re still floating your boat down a river in Egypt.”
“De Nile. I get it.” I let out a chuckle.
Koby and Celia arrived, concern on their faces.
“What’s going on with you two?” Koby asked.
“We’re bonding.”
Portia said the words so seriously, I burst out laughing. “Yeah. We’re so close, she’s starting to get under my skin.”
The bus pulled up, the roaring diesel killing any comeback. While Celia and her chair were loaded, I took a seat next to Portia.
“So that guy back there, Simon Scroll, I thought you knew him.”
“He’s new to Del Gloria. He showed up in class the same day you did.”
“I probably shouldn’t have been so suspicious, but I get a little possessive when it comes to my projects.”
“I don’t blame you. Simon Scroll has to prove himself on his own merits. Being a student at a Christian college doesn’t mean squat.” She rolled her eyes. “And so far I’m not impressed.”
I liked how Portia put it. We all had to prove ourselves on our own merits. What had Denton said? Words meant nothing. Only actions.
The bus jerked to a halt in front of the campus fitness center. I waved goodbye to the gang and grabbed a quick shower in the locker room before heading to my next class.
The relaxing flow of water washed over my aching muscles. It felt so good to be working on a project again. I lathered my hair, picturing what was happening back at my lodge in Michigan. Maybe Puppa was there cutting grass today. The yard wasn’t much of a lawn, mostly woods, so it would just take a few minutes of his time. I hoped he’d weed whip the foundation too. I hadn’t gotten to it yet this season, and it was already out of control when I left. One quick phone call would ease my mind. Soap bubbles crowded the drain as I rinsed. Better not. Brad made it plain that I wasn’t to contact anyone until he gave me the all clear.
A thud came from the locker area. I’d been alone when I arrived. Someone must have come in. I turned off the water and toweled dry.
“Hello?” I came around the tiled wall.
A rustling sound. Footsteps. The door squeaked open, then shut.
I checked the rows of lockers. Nobody.
“Hmmm.” My voice bounced against bare surfaces. Back in my own row, my bag lay open on the bench. Fresh jeans, socks, and a tee were stuffed chaotically in the top. Just the way I’d left them. And my dirty clothes lay in
