"What do you want to do now?" Katie asked. "It's only nine-thirty. Do you want to go toilet-paper somebody's house? We could give each other egg white and oatmeal facials maybe. Or we could watch Gone with the Wind."

"That's the other movie you rented? You didn't tell me that! I thought it was another car movie. I'd love to watch Gone with the Windl" Christy exclaimed. "I've only seen it once, and I missed the end because I fell asleep. Let's watch it, okay?"

Katie jumped up to pop the movie into the machine. "So your choice for the evening is a marathon movie and more junk food. I knew there was a reason we got along so well! We have the same taste in slumber parties."

Returning to her nest on the couch, Katie threw her sleeping bag over her legs. She turned to Christy, who now held the candy bowl in her lap, and said, "Come on, future ski bunny. Pa.s.s the MaM's."

With a laugh, Christy thought, Ski chicken is more like it.

going to cost?" Christy's dad asked on Monday evening.

"It's around $150, but we're having a fund-raiser, so it won't cost that much really." Christy tried to sound confident. She felt a little more positive about the trip after the meeting that afternoon. It sounded like it would be a lot of fun, and Katie was excited about it.

Christy's dad was on his knees with a screwdriver in his hand, trying to repair the upside-down, disa.s.sembled recliner chair in the living room. He scratched his reddish-brown hair with the end of the screwdriver. "That's a lot of money, Christy. How much do you expect to raise, and how are you going to do it?"

"We're selling candy bars for two dollars apiece. A dollar goes toward the cost of the candy, and a dollar toward the trip. Would you like to buy one?" she asked with a childish grin. She knew that her dad could pull the plug on the trip if he didn't think she should go.

"I want a candy bar." David spoke up from his corner of the couch, where he was attempting to do his math homework. "Can I have one?"

"You'll have to ask your mother when she gets back from the grocery store," Dad answered. "She's the one with the secret cash around here. I don't know where she hides it."

"It's in the freezer. I'll show you," David scooted off the couch. "She keeps it in that old tin that says 'grease.'"

"Stay where you are, son. Get that homework done."

Dad went back to work on the chair, muttering to himself, "Imagine that. All these years, and I never knew where she kept it. Even my ten-year-old knows that what I thought was frozen bacon grease is really her stash."

Just then the phone rang, and David jumped up. "I'll get it!"

"Don't bother, David. I've already got it," Christy said, reaching for the phone in the kitchen.

"Christina dear," came the voice on the other end. "How are you? Bob and I were just saying we hadn't heard from you or your folks for a while and wondered how everything was going there."

"We're all fine, Aunt Marti. How are you guys?"

"We're both fine. How's school going for you? Are you finding new groups to get involved with since you dropped out of cheerleading?"

Christy cringed at the jab about cheerleading, but she was glad to report to her aunt that she had joined the ski club. She knew it was the kind of club Aunt Marti would approve of.

That news was all Aunt Marti needed to set into motion a string of plans. First she told Christy she would take three boxes of the fundraiser candy bars and sell them at her next women's meeting. Whatever portion of the necessary $150 Christy couldn't raise, Aunt Marti would gladly supply.

Of course, Christy couldn't go skiing without the right attire. Aunt Marti said she would go shopping tomorrow for ski clothes and have the outfits sent directly to Christy's house.

"The clothes should arrive this weekend at the latest," Aunt Marti stated. "That should give you plenty of time to try them on and decide if you need any more."

"Aunt Marti, you really don't have to do all this for me, you know."

"Why are you always trying to spoil my fun, Christina? You know I love helping you out like this. Goodness knows, your mother would love to provide these things for you if she could. But we all know that's just not possible on your father's salary. Let me do this for you, and please stop acting as if it's such a huge favor. It's nothing, really."

Christy sighed. She had learned long ago not to cross her aunt. "Thanks, Aunt Marti. Do you want me to mail the boxes of candy to you?"

"Actually, Bob is playing golf in Rancho Santa Fe this Wednesday. I'll have him stop by and pick up the candy. I might even be able to send some of the ski clothes with him. That is, if I can find everything we need by tomorrow. Say, is your mother home? I need to talk to her."

"She just walked in the door," Christy said, holding out the phone to her mom.

Mom's round face looked flushed as she placed two big bags of groceries on the counter and brushed back her short graying hair.

"It's your sister," Christy said.

Mom smiled, took the phone, and answered brightly, "h.e.l.lo, Martha. How are you?"

With her free hand, Mom motioned for Christy to unload the rest of the groceries from the car.

"Come on, David," Christy called as she marched through the living room. "Help me carry in the groceries."

"I can't," David said, pushing up his gla.s.ses. "I have to finish my homework."

Oh brother, Christy thought, you'll jump up to answer the phone and to reveal Mom's freezer secrets, but when I ask you to help, you suddenly have to do your homework.

"Go on, David," Dad said. "You can take a quick break and help your sister. I think I'll take a break too." He laid down the screwdriver and joined Christy and David in unloading the car.

A few minutes later, the kitchen counters were covered with nine bags of groceries. Mom had hung up the phone and begun the challenge of putting everything away.

"How come you never buy any good stuff?" David asked. "All my friends at school get cupcakes and candy bars in their lunches. All I ever get is an oatmeal cookie."

"I'm trying to keep our family healthy," Mom said. "We all eat too much junk food as it is. I'm not going to pay good money for that stuff when a homemade oatmeal cookie is much better for you."

Dad turned to Christy and said under his breath, "Sounds like your mother read another one of those health food articles. Just watch. Bet you anything we're having tofu and bean sprouts for dinner."

"I heard that," Mom said. "And no, we're not having tofu. We're having stirfry."

"With beef?" Dad asked, looking hopeful.

"No."

"Chicken?"

"No, just vegetables. Lots and lots of vegetables."

Dad looked disappointed.

Mom tried to convince him. "We don't need to eat meat at every meal. Besides, it saves money on our food bill, and it's good for us to pork out on vegetables every once in a while."

"Pork," Dad repeated. "Now, that's a good idea. You could throw some pork chops in with those vegetables, and we'd have a real meal."

Mom gave Dad a look Christy knew well. It was a mockstern look in which she stuck out her chin and lowered her eyebrows. But all it did was make Dad laugh.

"Okay, okay." In two steps he was across the kitchen floor and scooping Mom up in a bear hug. "We'll be your vegetarian guinea pigs tonight. And tomorrow night, if you want to test out a huge slab of prime rib on us, hey, we won't complain a bit, will we, kids?"

"Yeesh," David said. "They look like they're going to start kissing. I'm going to do my homework."

Christy kept putting away the groceries. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched her parents snuggling. She thought it was kind of cute the way they still teased each other and acted a little goofy, especially after being married for so many years.

"Oh, leave those out," Mom said when she saw Christy loading the celery and carrots into the refrigerator. "That's part of our stirfry for tonight."

"I'll leave you two to your chop-sueying." Dad headed back to his project in the living room. He still had a grin on his face.

Christy thought about how her dad came across so gruff and stern most of the time. Then at moments like this, she wondered what he was like as a teenager and what her mom was like when the two of them first met.

While they spent the next twenty minutes chopping up vegetables, Christy asked her mom questions about how she met Dad and what things had been like for them. Most of Mom's answers Christy had already heard. She knew the stories of their engagement and wedding by heart.

"What about when you were dating?" Christy asked. "What made you so sure you liked Dad more than that other guy you were seeing? What was his name?"

"Well, you know, in a small town everyone knows everyone else," Mom explained. "I had known your father since we were in grade school. The other kids said he was a bully because he was kind of big for his age. I thought he was shy though. And I liked him as a good friend for many years."

Mom opened a new bottle of all-natural canola oil and poured some into the hot electric skillet. "So when he finally asked me out, it just seemed right because wed been friendsa"good friendsa"for so many years."

"How did you know he was the one you wanted to marry?" Christy asked, sc.r.a.ping the carrots off the cutting board and watching them dance in the hot skillet.

Mom's worry lines disappeared. "Because I couldn't picture myself spending the rest of my life with anyone else."

Christy thought about her mom's statement for the rest of the evening. After dinner she attacked her homework. The first paper she pulled out was her English essay on true friends. The cla.s.s had slid by, without them having to turn in their essays that morning because they'd had a subst.i.tute who didn't know anything about the a.s.signment.

The night before Christy had thrown away her first draft and put together a couple paragraphs on how a true friend was someone you can trust. Reading her essay now, it sounded flat.

"A true friend isa" she repeated, lifting her stuffed Pooh Bear and balancing him on her knees. What is a true friend, Pooh?"

Deciding to work from what she had already written rather than start over, Christy continued to write about how you can always trust a true friend. She thought it would be nice to include Katie in her essay, since Katie seemed to be writing about her.

A true friend will tell you what you need to hear, Christy wrote, even when what she or he has to say might not be what you want to hear.

After several minutes of work, Christy reread her essay and started to critique her grammar. She wondered if it was okay to end one of her sentences with is. She knew the teacher would squawk because she had used the word totally, so she changed it to sincerely.

Then she noticed she had used sincerely a few words later. Using the same word twice, so close together, was another no-no with her English teacher.

This is a lot harder than I thought it would be. But I sure could use a good grade in this cla.s.s.

It took her at least fifteen minutes to rewrite her sentences. By the time she had finished, she had lost any previous creativity.

I don't think it's possible for my right brain and left brain to work together. How can I be creative and critical at the same time? This writing business is hard!

Forcing herself to go on, Christy tried extra hard to capture a good description of a friend. It seemed to take forever. She decided that writing three full pages was entirely too long an a.s.signment for such a simple topic.

At least Christy had nice handwriting in her favor. When she finally finished, she recopied the paper so it would look neat. She liked the final line of her essay: I would have to agree with Constantine, who said, "My treasures are my friends." It was her favorite quote from the list her English teacher had pa.s.sed out.

"What do you think, Pooh?" Christy held up her finished paper for him to see. "Think I'll get an A?"

Christy tucked her paper into her notebook and got ready for bed. Before turning out the light, she reached under her bed and pulled out a shoe box covered in floral wrapping paper. She opened it and peered at the three letters inside.

This was her secret box, containing letters written to her future husband. She had written the first letter on her sixteenth birthday. The other two she had written during the past few months when she had something on her heart she wanted to write down for the guy she would someday marry.

Every time Christy wrote to him, she prayed for him. Her goal was to present this box to her husband on their wedding day. He would see that for years she had been praying for him and thinking about how to be the best partner in the world for him.

Christy lifted the pad of plain, white writing paper and in her best handwriting wrote, Dear Future Husband, I was thinking today about friends and about how I want us to always be good friendsa"before and afrer were married. I think I still have a lot to learn about how to be a good friend, but I'm trying to be more encouraging and supportive of my friend Katie. I actually let her talk me into going skiing! Do you like to ski?

I just wanted you to know that I'm praying for you and thinking about you.

Yourfriend, Christy She carefully folded the letter and added it to the collection in the box. Then, slipping the box back under her bed, she held her Pooh Bear tightly and prayed for her future husbanda"whoever and wherever he might be.

Christy hurried home from school and finished her homework before dinner. Her youth group met on Wednesday nights for Bible study, and the agreement with her parents was that she had to have her homework done before she could go. She had been to the Bible study only once before because she had never managed to complete her homework in time. Tonight she had a good reason for goinga"Katie.

Christy grabbed her Bible and car keys, eager to rush out the door at ten minutes before seven.

Her mom called after her, "Be sure you're home by nine. Don't give anyone a ride. Lock the doors, and call us if you have any problems."

"Okay, Mom," Christy answered. "I'll be fine. See you at nine."

Smiling to herself, she thought, I'm only going a few miles to church. My parents make it sound like I'm going on a safari!

She made it just in time and found Katie in the back row, saving a seat for her.

"Did you see that new guy over there?" Katie whispered, pointing toward the front of the room. "He just moved here from Ecuador. I heard his parents are missionaries."

Christy saw the guy Katie was pointing at. He was nice-looking with light brown hair, broad shoulders, and fair skin with a sprinkling of freckles.

"He sure doesn't look like a missionary kid," Christy whispered back.

"Why? Because he looks normal?" Katie asked.

"I guess. You know what I mean. He looks like any other guy here."

"Let's talk to him afterward, okay? I bet it's not easy to make friends and fit into a new culture and everything after living in the jungle."

"Did he really live in the jungle?" Christy asked.

"Sure! Where else would a missionary live in Ecuador?"

The Bible study leader, Luke, asked everyone to find a seat so they could get started.

Christy watched the new guy sit down in the front row and thought, That missionary kid doesn't look like the Tartan type. I wonder if he really lived in a rain forest.

After opening in prayer, Luke introduced Glen io the rest of the group and had him stand and say a few words.

Glen looked nervous as he quickly explained that he and his family were missionaries in the city of Quito and that his dad worked at a Christian radio station there.

Christy and Katie exchanged glances, and Katie whispered, "And I thought he lived in a hut and ate tree bark?"

The study that night centered on what it meant to be a missionary. At least four times, Luke said, "Each of us is a missionary right where we are. We don't have to go to a foreign country to tell others about the Lord. Start seeing your high school as your mission field." Toward the end, he asked if anyone had any comments to add.